A.N- Hello, and thank you for picking this up.

This is a prequel to VoI, which is actually just cutting out all the flashback chapters of VoI, adding a bit, and putting it as a different story. If you're still interested, I couldn't be happier.

Hope you enjoy~ O y va!

Chapter One: 2.5

Kyle felt betrayed. He dreaded for this day to come and spent everyday thinking of a way to get out of it, to change the course of his fate, but no, it came, it was inevitable. Kyle was leaving South Park. He cursed his conservative mother who believed that education could not be taken far in a Podunk town like South Park. He damned his unsupportive father who didn't have the courage to disagree with her, in the end agreeing that maybe she was right: maybe boarding school would help Kyle's success.

But no matter what his parents told him, he wouldn't listen. Boarding schools were for upper-class jack-offs who cared about appearances more than what the child wanted, and what Kyle wanted was to stay with his friends in South Park. The boarding school was not a while away from the city, yet it was a good three-hour ride from South Park. Kyle knew he wouldn't be visiting home every weekend; he hated long trips, which made him hate the school even more. The fact that the school had a good reputation was another hate-factor for Kyle; it was why his parents made him enter the damn school in the first place.

Kyle was the first to arrive at the newly-assigned bedroom and so took the opportunity to choose the first bed, right in the corner beside the window. Looking at the other three empty beds made Kyle sigh, imagining how he would have to share the room with three other people, (hoping they're not complete douchebags). Already exhausted in the new environment, Kyle spread himself nice and long across the bed, moaning slightly, making himself ready for a nice, long sleep.

'Hey, move it shrimpy.'

Kyle lifted his heavy eyelids to find a small, greasy face glaring down at him, their noses only a few inches apart.

'What? Why?'

'That's Derek's bed.'

'Who?'

The greasy kid leaned up away from Kyle's face to let the redhead find another child, taller and fierce looking, also staring down at him. Fuck.

'Fuck off shrimpy!'

'Dude!' Kyle groaned, leaning up from his mattress. 'I chose this bed first! I made it! Can't you just choose another one? They're all the same!'

'Then move it if they're all the same!'

'No! I fucking made this bed!'

The two kids above him gritted their teeth, faces glowing with rage at Kyle's defiance. Kyle could almost hear the larger one, Derek's, teeth chip in his mouth before the child grasped at Kyle's bony ankle with an unmerciful grip, dark eyes burning into Kyle's emerald ones.

'Move! Or I'll fling you off so hard I'll break your ankle!'

'No!' Kyle yelled with the stubbornness of a child and grasped at the headboard of his bed. Derek tugged angrily at Kyle's ankle, but the shrimp would not budge. A small breath of relief escaped Kyle as he felt the grip release his ankle, but he chocked on his inhaling as the large body jumped onto his back, trapping the redhead under his weight.

'Do as I say, Shrimp!'

Kyle gasped in pain as fierce fingers pulled his hair back by his curls, threatening to pull the scarlet locks out of his scalp. But still he did not budge, adding fuel to the anger of the larger boy on him.

'What are you doing?' A heavy voice instantly froze all the burning anger in the room. 'Are you raping 'im?'

Derek flung himself off of Kyle, burning anger returning to his eyes as he glared at the intruder, leaving Kyle rubbing his head and coughing from the freedom to breathe.

'We are not raping him!'

'Zen what are you doing?'

Kyle could hear Derek's teeth clench from his bed.

'He stole his bed!' The greasy boy answered instead.

'No I didn't! I got it first! I made this bed!'

The smaller boy with the strange accent dropped his bag onto the unmade bed right beside him, closest to the door.

'Just pick any fucking bed and stop beetching like a pussy.' He didn't even look up as he talked, going straight into making his own bed, infuriating the two other boys without the slightest show of care. Finally, his fierce glare not working on the intruder, Derek huffed and moved to the last empty bed, dropping his belongings on it just as the newcomer did. 'Fils de pute,' the smaller boy spat quietly to himself.

Kyle released the muscles in his body and relaxed deep into his mattress, sighing contently. But just as relief sank him deep in relaxation he flung his eyes open in realisation and jumped off the bed he oh-so desperately protected. Emerald eyes glowing, he hopped over to the boy with the strange accent making his bed.

'Thanks,' Kyle smiled widely to the stoic-looking child working away.

'It was not for you, he was a swine.'

A soft chuckle flowed out of Kyle; somehow the strange boy made the redhead feel at home, a sense of nostalgia tickling him.

'I'm Kyle,' he said, smiling at the boy who was not looking his way.

'Christophe,' the boy answered. And it was that answer, that one name, that snapped a chord in Kyle's head. Eyes widening, Kyle leaned over and looked deep into the boy's face: olive skin, fierce hazel-green eyes, short crooked eyebrows…

'Mole?' the soft murmur made the boy freeze, and hazel-greens travelled to meet Kyle's wide eyes.

'Oui?'

A sudden mesmerising twinkle shone in Kyle's orbs.

'Mole! It's me! Kyle! Kyle Broflovski!' The boy's chapped lips slightly parted; Kyle imagined an invisible cigarette falling out form between the French boy's lips and grinned.

'I remember you…' A small gentle smile appeared on Christophe's stoic lips. 'Three years.'

'Yeah, I know! Didn't think I'd meet you here!' Kyle couldn't hide his excitement. He was so glad to have found someone he knew in this foreign environment. 'Now at least I have one person I know!'

'Two,' Christophe corrected, making Kyle's smile tense in confusion. 'Gregory is here too.'

'Really? That English guy?' Kyle chuckled in disbelief, 'Well, what do you know…'

Kyle recognised Gregory in an instant the next day. His light beige blond hair was combed back perfectly, making his silver-blue eyes shine in the centre of his face. He greeted Kyle with his civil smile that always rested on his lips, yet the casualty of it made Kyle think of it as almost cold and emotionless. And just as Kyle instantly recognised Gregory, the other immediately recognised the redhead too.

'Such a pleasant surprise,' he grinned, taking Kyle's hand in his own. 'Yes, so, so pleasant…' He kept on shaking Kyle's questioning hand, almost frantically, until he noticed hazel-greens glaring into him. Kyle relaxed slightly as Gregory finally released his hand.

'Oh, honestly Mole, you need a cigarette.'

'You're telling me?'

Gregory chuckled and threw a cigarette packet at the irritated French boy.

'Treasure it. It's meant to last a week.'

'Ouais, ouais…' Christophe mattered, taking a stick out and shoving it into his mouth without lighting it.

But unlike Christophe's casualty, Kyle looked at the packet in shock.

'How— how did you—'

'Sneak in the cigarettes? I didn't. I got them once I got here.' Kyle frowned in confusion, making the blond laugh. 'Do you really want to know?'

'Gregory…'

'What?' Gregory smirked at the disapproving brunet. 'I think we should tell him. I think he has great potential.'

Silver-blue eyes scanned through the redhead from head to toe intently, finishing with a wide smile on emerald eyes.

'Um, sorry, but what the fuck are you talking about?' Kyle asked, uncomfortable under the two pair of eyes digging into his thin frame. His body jolted suddenly, as the English boy took two quick steps up to him, bringing their faces barely an inch apart.

'Have you been planning on joining a club?'

'What? No.' Kyle spat at the unexpected question. 'All the clubs here are gay. They don't even have basketball! …Why?'

'Mm-hmm… I heard you were pretty smart.'

'Well, I got into his stupid school without even trying to pass the test, but—'

'And Wendy told me that you were a natural hacker.'

'Yeah, sure I can— wait, what?'

Gregory grinned widely, leaning out of Kyle's face to free the redhead of his shadow.

'How would you like to join our club?'

'Club?' Kyle blinked. 'Your… club— What club?'

'It doesn't have a name yet, but it is a secret club with only me and Mole. And now, maybe you.'

'Wait, that suggestion came out of asking me about my intelligence and hacking skills. Where the fuck is this going?'

'Nowhere, unless you want to join.' The blond's grin grew a little more. 'So, what's it going to be?'

Frowning, red eyebrows tensed and innocent pink lips pursed together troublingly, Kyle made the decision light-heartedly, oblivious that his answer was going to change his life forever.

Sometimes, the thought, the wonder, would manage itself into Kyle's mind: what would his life have been like if he had never entered that secret club? It was difficult to imagine a different scenario in his life, besides, it was a complete waste of time. The redhead would never spend a long time thinking and daydreaming, but when he asked himself that question there was one answer that Kyle knew was right as a fact: that he would have stayed human.

So does he regret it?

When Kyle and Christophe returned back to their dormitory they were welcomed back by silence and darkness. They were alone, and somehow, the subtle sound of the rain outside made Kyle hesitate to turn the lights on, or maybe it was the fierce sound of the darkness from the boy behind him. Kyle's small fingers brushed against the plastic of the light switch, wondering whether or not he should turn it on and light the room or stay in the comfortable silence. But just before Kyle could tense the tip of his finger to light the room, a cold hand shot to his wrist, flinging Kyle into the bed behind him.

A sharp breath of surprise pumped into Kyle's lungs, and he only then noticed the small boy trapping him down against the mattress underneath him. Their faces were so close together, but through the darkness and the shadow created by the brunet's fringe Kyle could not see Christophe's expression. He could only feel that the hand he thought was so cold and hard was now burning clasped around his wrists. He could hear his heart pounding in his ribcage.

'You should not 'ave done zat.' The French boy whispered darkly.

'What- was I- not- meant to do?' Kyle managed through quickening breaths. Christophe was smaller than him, but his burning hands were fierce and large trapping Kyle underneath him in his grip. They were so much stronger…

'You should not 'ave listened to Gregory. You should not 'ave joined us!'

'Mole,' Kyle flinched at Christophe's raised voice, 'It's just a fucking club, dude…'

The brunet gritted his teeth, the muscles in his face moving to reveal his eyes from behind his fringe. They were also tensed, like his hands, narrowed and burning.

'You're weak.'

'Oh, gee, thanks,' Kyle spat sarcastically. But without receiving a reply he slowly relaxed into the mattress.

'I didn't know you hated me that much…' Kyle chuckled, desperate to distract himself from the present state he was in, trapped under an enraged (twelve year-old) mercenary. And granted, the brunet's burning eyes softened slightly at Kyle's words.

'I don't 'ate you, Kyle,' Christophe whispered, releasing one of Kyle's wrists to rest the palm on the redhead's tensed cheek, making him freeze at the uncomfortable intimacy. 'I like you. Zat is why I do not want you joining us.'

'Dude… It's just one stupid club.'

Christophe chuckled, 'With me and Gregory? Yes, one very stupid club.'

Kyle nodded as if in agreement, perking his lips nervously.

'Um, can you get off of me now?'

The brunet looked down curiously, then as if just noticing their situation, slowly slid off from the tensed redhead.

'Sorry,' he mumbled, taking Kyle up with him by the hand.

'No it's fine, I guess? It's just that—' Kyle sighed, still slightly tensed as he tried to look into Christophe, yet failing in the darkness, 'What's wrong if the club has you and Gregory?'

There was a heavy chuckle in reply.

'We have been acquainted for five years.' But then his smile dropped. 'You don't know 'im like I do.'

'Yeah? And how do you know him then?'

A small rustling entered his ears, and now with his eyes, Kyle could see Christophe, his childish eyes staring into the darkness without a focus, placing a cigarette he received from Gregory in between his lips. He slowly inhaled in the smell of the tobacco, his breath and the rain the only sound in the room. The sight, the sound, somehow, made Kyle speechless.

'I don't know him,' Christophe answered. 'That is what I know.'

.

It had been a while since Kyle entered the club and he was approaching the end of his junior years. But he was still confused about one thing; why did Christophe disapprove of him entering the club so much in their first year? So far there had been nothing dangerous, although maybe a little bit risky. In their first year Gregory had somehow secured a secret room for the club and a few old computers (as freshmen were not allowed any). The only thing Kyle did was connect the computers (secretly) to the internet and unlock all websites for free access (stupid child lock).

But frankly, the club was boring. It felt like they never did anything and Kyle either surfed the internet or read books as Gregory stayed silent at his desk and Christophe being somewhere doing something. The only remotely exciting thing they did was rearranging the dormitory in their second year (and every year after that) so that Kyle, Christophe and Gregory had a bedroom to themselves. Other than that, there were the short episodes such as anonymously busting the married nurse's affair with the janitor, and then a senior for smuggling in and selling weed at the back of the gym.

Kyle began to think of the club as a secret detective's club or something, yet with only a few limited assignments the club was pure boredom, although it didn't make much of a difference since Kyle was not planning on joining any other club in the first place.

Yet nothing lasts, not even boredom.

Kyle's fingers froze on the keyboard, he blinked once, narrowed his eyes carefully, then released the tension in his body, making the sleeping Christophe stir beside him on the broken couch.

'Gregory, there aren't any security cameras in this school are there?'

'There's one on the main entrance and back exit, but other than that? No.' Gregory answered without looking up from his desktop screen. 'Why?'

Kyle grinned at himself. 'Because I just found some unknown, unregistered, secret, activity…' The fun drama in his voice finally made Gregory look up from his computer.

'What is it?'

'I think it's a wifi video camera. So either the school put in some new cheap security cameras around the school, which I doubt with all my heart, or, someone is being naughty—' the redhead sang. 'Wait, I'll hack into it.'

Gregory's eyes widened with amusement at Kyle's words and the casualty of them, but kept quiet and let the redhead do his work. Kyle's frantic typing finally woke up Christophe, who yawned and stretched beside his working friend, immediately noticing the boy's concentration.

'Dude…' Gregory smiled at Kyle's astonished voice and walked over, leaning over Kyle's back to take a look at the screen. Christophe, with tired eyes did the same, resting his chin on Kyle's shoulder and glancing into the laptop. 'It's connected to one of the teacher's bedroom, who is it? Oh yeah, Rolfes.'

'Who? That fat PE teacher?' Christophe grunted, making Kyle chuckle softly. But Gregory wasn't listening.

'Isn't that a shower room?' the blond asked, pointing at the video image Kyle hacked into.

'Yeah… It's a little different though. See? The door's on the left-hand side, not the right—' and slowly, Kyle's jaw dropped in realisation. 'Dude! It's the girl's shower room!'

A tired laugh rattled on Kyle's shoulder, 'Perverted bastard,' Christophe chuckled with his slightly improved accent.

Gregory kept quiet with a stern look and simply watched as Kyle accessed Rolfes' secret files on his computer.

'Sick,' Kyle spat, 'Fuck…'

There were at least twenty videos, all edited to the pervert's favourite scenes. Kyle felt like throwing up the burning rage in his chest, Christophe was no longer laughing and Gregory kept his silence, until Kyle finally closed his laptop fiercely in anger.

'What the fuck!' Kyle raged, 'What the fuck was that!'

'Kyle, calm down—'

'What the fuck do you mean, calm down? Dude, he's sick! We need to take it to the principal! To the police!'

But Kyle received only a grin from Gregory, which made him slowly calm down in confusion.

'I've got a better idea. We can grass him up after that. '

'Grass?'

Gregory ignored him, 'Can you hack into his webcam?'

'A fucking monkey could hack into his webcam,' Kyle muttered, already proving himself without any orders. He showed Gregory the screen divided into two, one half with the video of the girl's shower room, and the other of a dark bedroom. 'How's that?'

'Perfect,' Gregory smiled and patted the redhead on the shoulder. 'Only one more thing you need to do.'

.

He dragged his short thick legs behind him like old dogs weighing him down and chuckled as he entered his dark single room. The chuckle came from hatred, towards his blubbery fat, his lifeless eyes and his bolding head, the whole definition of "ugly" his appearance held. But what was truly ugly was not his appearance, no, it was something deeper, it was something he thanked. It was like black goo inside him. He noticed it most when he watched the young, flourishing adolescent girls pounce around in his class, glancing at their under-developed breasts lightly jiggle under their shirts and their soft thighs pump in action. The black goo would boil, disgusting, but it was oh-so sweet smelling when he thought of the evening, he, alone, with hours of footage of girls showering naked obliviously, and his hand. The black goo in his belly was then his best friend.

Rolfes was glad the school didn't pay much attention to PE, if so then he might not have gotten the job. However, he prided himself on being a committed sports teacher and after another hard day's work, without bothering to turn his bedroom light on, Rolfes pondered straight to his desktop and switched his computer on. It was ten o'clock and he knew that there would be no one in the showers that late at night, so he was going to indulge himself with some edited footage. But before he could choose himself a video his finger paused on his mouse as a small creak whispered out of the computer speaker.

He blinked, and then slowly drew his mouse to the bar of his live spy-camera and opened it on window. Someone had entered the shower room. Rolfes' heart fluttered with excitement and he watched with hungry eyes, but then his quickening heart stopped as he noticed one thing: the incomer was wearing a boy's uniform.

Rolfes' heart began to beat again, heavier now with anger and frustration. What was a boy doing in his video? In the girl's bathroom? In his sexual sanctuary? The fat on his cheeks trembled as he gritted his teeth and glared at the intruder of his fantasy, but then, just as quickly as the anger irrupted, it disappeared. His grinding teeth released and his jaw unconsciously loosened. The boy began to undress.

His movements were delicate, letting slender fingers undo each of the buttons of his shirt slowly and carefully, as if nervous. Finally, his slow fingers undid the last button, and the white fabric slid down his shoulders, his arms, and fell to the floor. Rolfes' small, beady eyes widened into little circles as he stared. The porcelain-like skin revealed from under the shirt was as white and smooth as milk wrapped around the delicate structure of bone and muscle; it made his scarlet curls glow like fire on snow.

Slowly, keeping his eyes glued on the boy's frail back, Rolfes' sausage-like fingers reached out for the lube inside his desk drawer and pumped the liquid onto his palm. Mouth lightly hanging open, his dry hand moved to the front of his trousers and undid the zipper and button to release his hardened cock. He wrapped his lube-upped hand around his erection and began to pump, staring at the undressing boy. Was it his imagination, or was the boy slightly shaking? The thought made him pump a little faster.

The boy's hands moved to the front and Rolfes could tell that he was taking off his trousers and he spat at his computer screen for the boy to hurry up. Finally, his trousers fell to the floor and Rolfes' pumping became frantic. His thighs, his calves, as white and smooth as his shoulders yet only softer, and then his buttocks, hiding under the thin fabric of his underwear perfectly carved… Rolfes drooled out of his hanging mouth without noticing. He wished the boy to do with the underwear and bend over and slide off his socks, arch his thin back and present his spreading buttocks. He wished for him to turn around and show his chest, his nipples, his belly…

'Fu—ck' a deep moan escaped his mouth as he released into his own hand.

When he looked back at the screen the boy was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he forgot his towel? Rolfes grunted and fell asleep in front of his computer.

.

Kyle's hands were clasped tightly around the front of his unbuttoned shirt, hiding his bare chest. He felt a sense of burning coldness inside him as he ran through the dark corridor of the school and headed for the club's secret room. His shaking hand flung the door open and slammed it shut mercilessly with rage behind him.

'Shh… Careful Kyle, what if you woke someone up?'

'Fuck you, you cock sucking asshole!' Kyle yelled and grabbed the smirking Gregory by the collar of his shirt. His emerald eyes were burning in the centre of his startlingly paled face. 'Are you happy now? Are you happy now that you got your fucking evidence?' He spat.

'Yes, quite. Now we can truly prove that he had been masturbating to the videos from his spy camera, thanks to you.' Gregory smiled warmly, 'Couldn't have done it without you Kyle. You really performed quite a strip show—'

Kyle's paled face suddenly lit up with burning red. He took the earphones out of his left ear and threw his handheld transceiver to the blond as aggressively as he could; yet it was caught by the blond with ease.

Pleased with his swift reaction, Gregory looked up from the caught transceiver and glanced at Kyle, and his smirk slowly dropped from his face.

'Fuck… fuck you…' Kyle muttered through quivering lips, 'Fuck you Gregory. Fuck you. I hate you.' There was no sign of a confident smile on Gregory's lips as he watched the redhead run out the room.

Christophe, who was silently watching the two's conflict from the broken couch rose up to his feet, punched the back of Gregory's head and without a word, followed Kyle's path out the room.

With a frown, Gregory rubbed the back of his head and stared at the closed door. But his frown did not last long as he moved his eyes back to the screen of his computer and began to type an anonymous email to the school principal.

.

When Christophe arrived at his dormitory he found the room dark, yet he didn't turn the light on as he stared into the quivering darkness. As carefully and quietly as possible, Christophe walked to the occupied bed and gently revealed the curled-up boy from underneath the blanket. He was shaking and hiding his face in his arms, but he was not crying, Christophe knew, he was too proud for tears.

'Don't' look at me—' Kyle spat in the darkness. 'I hate him, I hate him…'

Still without a word, Christophe slid his growing body into the small bed with the redhead and wrapped his toned arms around his shaking shoulders.

'I feel so humiliated, so ashamed… I hate him, I hate him. I fucking hate him…'

Christophe's grip tightened around Kyle and slowly, pale arms wrapped back around him in response. He was still shaking and he had his teeth gritted to not say any more, but he still did not shed a tear. And somehow, as foreign as it felt, Christophe wished for Kyle to just cry. Just cry in his arms, cry, and share himself, share his feelings, his thoughts he kept behind gritted teeth… It was such a strange, foreign feeling, but the desire was burning inside him, as hot as the heat of the redhead shaking in his arms.

'I'll never do anything like that ever again, I swear… I'm not a fucking whore.