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Observation	By : Athena2693 Category: +S through Z > South Park > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4415 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own South Park, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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“What the fuck was I supposed to do with him!” A pause. “No, I’t got gonna shoot him!”
Kyle’s first sign of consciousness was a voice in his head. A somehow familiar voice with an incredibly thick accent. He tried to place the voice, but it seemed distant, like trying to remember a dream when you can only remember a feeling.
Where was he? His last memory was the bright sun overhead and the sweat sliding down his throat. He had been going to school, hadn’t he? Where was he now?
His eyes felt heavy, but he wasn’t broiling in his own sweat now. He felt surprisingly cool and comfortable. He stirred, pulling himself up by his arms so he was leaning against full, soft pillows. His eyes circled the room, observing his surroundings. A relatively small bedroom, with the blinds drawn. The walls were a soft cream, but the whole room seemed to glow yellow with the light from the sun shining through the blinds. It was quite homey. A fan buzzed in the corner, centered on the bed, making the room a cool sanctuary. None of the air was escaping since the door was tightly closed. Though he was beneath a large, fluffy white quilt, Kyle actually felt a bit chilly. A glass of fresh water rested on the dresser. Small droplets of water slid down the side of the faultless glasThe The water was ice cold when Kyle picked up the glass and sipped from it, testing it, than took a big swig. He set the glass aside, empty, seconds later.
“I don’t think so, I just think he’s exhausted.”
That voice spoke again, outside the door.
Maybe it was the cops, having found his guns. Maybe it was just some pervert, looking for a pretty little high school student for some weird sex games.
He would’ve gone for his knife, but he had been stripped down, completely naked. He was lying between cool sheets and soft blankets completely nude. Where were all his clothes? And his coat? And his backpack?
He slipped his legs off the side of the bed, climbing shakily to his feet. He was about as stable as a newborn colt. And probably about as gawky. He had to get out of here.
He began searching through the stranger’s drawers, keeping an ear out for approaching footsteps. The room was all but empty of anything having the ability to do serious damage. He did manage to find a thick leather belt among some male’s boxers. He wrapped this around both palms, and tugged, checking for strength. He could at least stun him.
The door didn’t have a lock. He pushed it open gently, peeking out through the small opening.
“No, I hid all the knives and explosives, he can’t hurt me. I’m sure, he’s so small.”
A brown tuft of hair was speaking from an armchair that faced away from him. The accent was even thicker now that he could hear it without the hum of the fan. Kyle slipped out of the door, trying to be as quiet as he could. He pulled at the belt, the tug giving him a feeling of control, of solidness.
He crept slowly behind the armchair, licking dry lips. He now saw the presence of smoke, drifting up in a wavy line above the stranger’s head.
“Gregory, please, he can’t hurt your little twink from my apartment! Let me deal with him. Yes, goodbye Gregory.”
He leaned forward, setting the phone down, and then layback against the chair. Kyle froze, afraid he was about to be caught. The dark-haired man just stared straight ahead, into seemingly nothingness. Kyle raised his arms over the man’s head, ready to pull down and yank…
Strong rough hands grabbed his wrists, twisted. Before he knew what had happened, the dark man was behind him, holding both his wrists behind his back, twisting the delicate bones. He cried out as he was shoved up against the wall. He felt the man’s clothes, scratchy and rough, against his own bare, baby-soft skin.
“Let me go! You can’t keep me here!”
“Calm down, calm down! Don’t attempt anything!”
“Who are you?”
“Let’s put you back into bed.”
“No! I have to go to school!”
“I’m not letting you go back to school,” Kyle was yanked off the wall and shoved through the doorway, back to the pleasant prison.
He struggled against the hard body holding him tight, trying to slither away. The figure caught him beneath his arms and hoisted him up onto the bed. He kicked against him, managed to throw him away, but had barely managed to even sit up before the body was back on top of him, holding him down by his wrists. He was still tired and hungry and had little energy to resist him. The dark man managed to hold his wrists down with one hand while grabbing something out of his pocket with the other. Kyle saw the flash of pointy metal.
“No, no,” he sounded whiny as he again tried to struggle. Wide green eyes watched the point puncture a cork top, draw out a liquid. Kyle tossed his head back and forth, panicking.
“Don’t! Please! I’ll behave!”
“It’s just a sedative. Stop struggling, do you want the needle to break off in your arm?” Kyle ignored the warning. The hand tightened on his wrist, holding down firmer. Kyle cried out when the needle pierced his flesh. It was quickly extracted again and set aside. Kyle reacted violently, putting all his strength into throwing the man off. He shoved him off the bed and made a run for the door. His hand had barely brushed the handle when arms were again around his waist, pulling him back. This time he was thrown onto the bed on his stomach, and the stranger climbed onto his back, pinning him with his body weight. Kyle collapsed, exhausted, weeping into the pillow.
“Shh. Calm down. The sedative will sink in soon.”
“What do you want with me?”
“I was hired to follow you by a boy who was concerned about his lover. His lover who went to your school. You had a reason for bringing all those guns and knives, didn’t you, Kyle?”
“If you plan on killing me, just do it already,” he was sniffling now, suddenly feeling drained of any energy.
“I’m not killing you. I want you to just relax, forget about all these urges you have. Nobody is going to hurt you here. Nobody is going to tease you. Forget about all those kids.”
“Who are you?” He was sounding drowsy now. The man released his strong grip he had on Kyle and gently stroked his red locks.
“We met a long time ago.”
“I don’t remember you.”
“We were children. It was during the war.”
“The Mole?”
“Yes. Why don’t you sleep now?”
“I don’t want to sleep.”
“You do.”
“Why did you stop me? They deserved it.”
“Maybe they did, but you could’ve hurt others in there that didn’t deserve it.”
“They all deserved it.”
“Did they? What about the ones who didn’t tease you? What about Butters, and Token, and Pip?”
“They watched it happen, they deserved it.”
“Calm down. Are you starting to calm down?”
“Yes.”
“Did you want something to eat, before you sleep?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re so thin.”
“I ate this morning.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“How would you know?”
“I do, alright?”
“I, no, I just want to sleep,” Kyle yawned sleepily, head burrowing into the soft pillow. Christophe hesitated for a moment, then climbed completely off of the boy. Kyle didn’t stir. He looked so tiny now. He was still completely nude, curled slightly into himself. He almost resembled a newborn mouse, hairless and tiny.
Christophe pulled back the covers beneath Kyle and scooped him up in his arms, laying him out on the clean sheets. He pulled the covers back over him, tucking him back into the bed.
“My mother…she’s going to worry,” Kyle’s eyes were closed now, and his words were slurred with drowsiness.
“I’ve already taken care of that.”
“What are you going to do with me?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Will you kill me?”
“I’m hoping I won’t have to.” Kyle felt the bed move as Christophe stood. He heard the door open, then shut. Then there was the continuous buzz of the fan. Then there was nothing.

It was almost dark out when Christophe heard the knock on the door. Kyle was still asleep, so deep he was actually snoring over the fan. And Christophe was curled up in his chair, reading. When he heard the loud tap of fist on wood, he went to open it, figuring it was Gregory coming to check out the situation first hand.
He was a bit off.
“Christophe!” He was enveloped in strong, feminine arms, kisses being placed on his cheeks and forehead and in his hair and wherever they could make their way to before he could cover bare flesh.
“Hello, mother,” he managed to wiggle out of her over-bearing arms. “You didn’t call, did you?”
“No, no, I was just at home, cooking, when I realized I had made too much spaghetti! And I thought of my poor, bachelor son, all alone and hungry in his shabby little apartment, and thought I’d bring him some dinner. Is now a bad time?”
“No,” he gave in, “Come on in mother. Is it very cold outside?”
“Terrible. The wind is blowing a chill into the town.”
“Yes, what a day it’s been,” he had felt the chill earlier and had went into the bedroom to shut off the fan, finding Kyle already curled beneath the quilt, shivering. “Would you like some tea?”
“Please, a nice cup of dark tea would be nice. What were you doing earlier?”
“Just reading. Come sit in the kitchen, it’s warmer in there.”
She carried a purse big enough to fit a television in, if she wished. She set this upon the counter and began pulling out Tupperware dishes. Of course, she had brought an entire three-course meal. Christophe turned on the light, flooding the spotless room with white brightness. The kitchen was tiny, and he had to carefully maneuver as to not bump into her. She was already putting some of the plastic containers in the fridge while heating up the stove.
“Mother, I have a microwave.”
“They aren’t like an oven, Christophe, you should know that by now.”
“Please, don’t bother. Here, sit down. No, leave the burner on; I need it for tea anyway. Comfortable?”
“Yes. I put the salad in the fridge and that big one has the spaghetti and the long one has some garlic bread.”
“Thank you mother,” he paused as he filled the pot to bend and kiss her on the cheek. “Have you heard from Uncle Richard lately?”
“He called me the other day. Cecile’s still not fully recovered from the birth.”
“How’s Joseph?”
“Richard says he’s the happiest little baby you’d ever see. I got the photographs in the mail the other day. He looked just like you did as a baby, chubby little thing with thick, brown hair.”
“Mother,” he rolled his eyes.
“Well, you were adorable!”
“I’m sure.”
“How long will that tea take?”
“Not long, five minutes maybe? Are you in a rush?” Christophe came to sit back down at the table now that the pot was on the stove.
“No, just wanted to see if I had time to freshen up, that wind made a mess of my hair. Where’s the bathroom?”
“Oh, um, just go into the living room and open the door by the plant.”
“Alright, just give me a moment,” she picked up her purse and walked out of the kitchen, the swinging doors shutting behind her. Christophe stood up and followed, just in case she had trouble finding it. Instead of opening the nearest door that led to the bathroom, she had passed it to go to the door on the opposite wall; the bedroom. Before he could protest, she had opened the door and turned on the light.
“Oh Christophe!”
“Mother, that’s the wrong door.”
“Well, obviously! Christophe, why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend!”
“What?”
“He’s adorable!”
Instead of shutting off the light and leaving the room then giving her son a lecture on the evils of homosexuality like any other mother, she walked right up to Kyle, who was still deeply asleep, and pulled down the blankets. He must’ve still been cold because they were pulled right up to his nose. She tucked them around his neck and smiled at him. His hair was a mess of tangles, though not yet having puffed up into his famous ‘fro. And his skin was milky smooth, just slightly colored by some pink in his cheeks. Soft, rose petal lips parted, breathing deeply.
“Why didn’t you tell me he lived with you,” she whispered softly to Christophe. He stood at her side, lighting another cigarette
“Umm, I didn’t really find the need to,” he lied. Let her believe he had a homosexual lover. It was easier then explaining that he was a boy he had been paid to track to stop a possible school shooting but then had pitied and brought home as a misguided pet.
“I would’ve stopped pestering you to find a nice girl if I had known you’d already found a nice boy. He looks so innocent. What’s his name?”
“Kyle, his name’s Kyle.”
“Well, what are you doing in here? He’s a young boy, let him sleep.” She grabbed her son’s wrist, yanking him out of the room, then shut off the light. “He lives with you?”
“For now.”
“How long have you been seeing each other?”
“Umm, not long.”
“Does he cook for you?”
“Not really.”
She seemed to have forgotten her messy hair as she sat her son down across from her, grabbing his hands tightly in her own tinier ones.
“Is he in school? How old is he? What are his parents like?”
“Er, he’s eighteen, and a senior at the local high school. His parents are highly overprotective of him, so they really don’t know about us, so please don’t try to contact them like you did with my last girlfriend. They’re Jewish.”
“So he loves God?”
“I don’t know if he loves that fucking bastard, I never asked him.”
“Christophe!” She pinched his arm sharply, forcing a small squeak from him. “Oh, the tea’s done, stay down, I’ll get it.”
She poured two cups and sat back across from him, the steaming mug in her hands. It occurred to him dimly that he knew where his love for tea had come from.
“So does he plan on college after this year? Or does he work? What do his parents do?”
Christophe sighed to himself. This was going to be a long couple of hours.

Kyle heard the door open, but could not see anything. It took him a few moments to realize that his eyes were actually open, but the room was black. The light beside him suddenly flashed on, blinding him. He rubbed his eyes sleepily, in pain.
“Give it a moment. How are you feeling?”
“Tired.”
“Expected so. Sit still for a moment.”
Gentle hands clasped his wrist then something was suddenly poking into the fold of his elbow. He yelped in surprise.
“Why again?”
“I have to keep you calm. It was only half the dose of last time though, you won’t go out immediately. I want you to eat first.”
“I told you, I’m not hungry.”
“You told me that like twelve hours ago. It’s eight o’clock; I want you to have some dinner. My mother stopped by with some homemade spaghetti. Do you like spaghetti?”
“Yes.”
“Good, because I made you a plate,” Christophe turned away from Kyle, retrieving a round surface from the dresser. He set it on Kyle’s lap. It was a large plate, but the pile of noodles and red sauce was relatively small. Kyle wrinkled his nose.
“I’m not hungry.”
“I want you to eat.”
“But I’m not hungry. I can’t eat if I’m not hungry.”
“If you can’t eat if you’re not hungry, and you can’t live if you don’t eat, I’m thinking you won’t make it past this week. Eat for me.”
“You eat it.”
“I already ate. My mother forced it down my throat.”
“So you’re forcing it down mine?”
“Be glad I’m not having her do it. She told me she thought you were too thing.”
“She saw me?”
“She ended up in the bedroom, yes.”
“Did you tell her you’re keeping me prisoner?”
“I let her come to her own conclusions.”
“And what was that?”
“You’re my entirely devoted homosexual lover.”
“Right. It’s dark out; you should let me go home. There’s nobody at school now.”
“Then you’ll just go tomorrow. I can’t let you do that.”
Kyle picked up the plate and set it on the dresser, turning away from Christophe to snuggle back into the blankets. He could see the bones along his back sticking out of pale flesh. He set his hand on them, feeling the need to touch them. Kyle’s skin jumped beneath his touch.
“I want you to eat.”
“And I want to go.”
“I’m just doing what’s good for you.”
“Right.”
“If you don’t eat, I’m gonna have to feed you through the funnel. I’ve did it before, and it’s not a pretty sight.”
“The funnel?”
“The funnel, where you put mashed up food into a funnel and it travels through a tube down your throat directly into your stomach.”
“That sounds painful,” Kyle’s voice was muffled by the pillow.
“It does. Eat the spaghetti, and I won’t have to do it.”
“You’re lying, you wouldn’t do it.”
“Oh yeah?” Christophe patted his shoulder quickly then turned to the closet, opening it. He searched through some boxes piled up in there and then came out with a long, black tube. It was taped to a white funnel at the top with duct tape and curled up in a ball. Kyle watched him with wide eyes, lips trembling.
“I haven’t used it in two years.”
“D, don’t.”
“Will you eat?”
“I’ll eat, I’ll eat. Just don’t shove that thing down my throat!”
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Observation