Montgomery Prescott

Montgomery Prescott 13 March 1996 Disclaimer: This blog is intended for rp purposes only; any audio and graphic content does not belong to me unless stated otherwise. Please use caution navigating this blog, as the contents may be shocking to some viewers. Hate speech and other abuse are not a representation of my views but are intended to be seen as the thoughts and actions of a character written by me. This blog contains violence, swearing, drugs, and other nsfw content. All offensive content will be tagged with the appropriate triggers for blacklisting purposes, but I am only human, so please proceed with caution.

[vityacristo]

"No, no- That's- No!" Vitya outright refused the narrative Monty was spinning as he spun it, interjecting between sentences but getting nowhere. "I-It's not like that." he whispered, his hand coming to rub at his stinging eyes. This move was a mistake, the pressure sending the mess past the waterline and spreading, leaving the entire eyelid wet. His jaw shook with the sobs he was holding in.

Monty bringing up the deal- the failed deal Vitya called him here for- sent him back down the hall, the memory fresh and aching raw. His father, his cold and calculating hands firmly on his shoulders, steering him how he pleased, rejected him. His first deal. His first contract. Rejected. Over. Done. He failed. He failed his father. He failed Monty. He failed Lemon. He failed everyone.

"I thought I could do it." Vitya mumbled, jumping beyond what Monty asked for, to it's evil core. To the memory playing in his head like a skipping record. Wherever or not Monty believed him, the project didn't exist anymore. "I ran the numbers, hundreds of times, for hours- I was so damn sure I could do it. It was going to work, I-I was going to get you an actual salary, I worked through so many nights-" Vitya's tears openly streaked now, the loathing inside reaching a boiling point. "And then, they... He..." He coughed again, finally starting to break down. The guilt of his lies, the pressure cooker of emotions, the sleep deprivation, the long hours, his father's gaze, even the evil amount of effort he put into carrying his... his affair on this long- it had all firmly caught up to him.

Vitya, for the first time since Monty arrived, looked him right in the eyes. "H-he said no. I couldn't... I'm so sorry, Monty."

[montyprescottjoie]

Monty shivered, goosebumps raising on his arms, a lump in the back of his throat when tears began streaking down Vitya's face. It was hauntingly beautiful.

...Monty shook his head, trying to erase those thoughts.

He saw beauty, but he felt betrayal. He'd fought so hard for so long, and Vitya had nothing to give in return. Monty didn't want or need fancy dates or gifts; he just wanted loyalty and support, but those were far out of reach. He thought they could build a life together, but Vitya was building his Daddy's empire without a thought for him...

"See, the fuckin' problem is, I can't believe a damn word ya say!" Monty growled with a threatening undertone, getting to his feet again. "Ya can't even look at me, not even touchin' me! Ya not my Vitya, not anymore. That guy's gone. I dunno who ya are, but ya ain't him!" He shouted in Vitya's face as he brushed by the taller man, slamming the office door closed behind him, making it rattle on its hinges.

Monty stomped down the hall away from the office, huffing and puffing like some mythical beast.

He was alone again.

[vityacristo]

Oh, he was going to be sick again. Vitya could feel it, the puke rising in this throat, as Monty called him for the liar he was. For the lying, cheating, disgusting scumbag he was. He, Vitya Cristo, took this man's heart and shredded it, not once, but twice. The pain was spilling out of him. The destruction he left would be more than he could fix- if he could fix anything anymore. He clearly didn't know how. Failure after failure after failure...

Monty slid onto the floor, broken and defeated, as Vitya stood and shook in place. Each breath was ragged, upset to be taken, as Vitya tried to come with something. Anything. The only thing he had was truth, and it was dirty. Ugly. Like him. It stung like the bile burning in his chest. Among a room of destroyed possessions, Monty was the only one he cared of- perhaps that was his issue, why he was so broken himself. He took love as something to own, to have. Unlike objects, though, it can't be replaced when broken.

"I..." He couldn't get out more than that with tasting acid. He collected what little strength he had left, beyond what kept his legs upright. No clock to rewind, no second chance, and he chose to not run this time. He swallowed, and tried to get the words out as fast as he could.

"I-It's not you, I'm..." he stopped. How cliché. It was his fault, but he had nothing to give Monty but platutudes? 'It's me, not you'- His breathing got heavy, eyes wet, as his frustration with himself had no mask to hide behind. "I-I fucked up, I... I betrayed you, I... I'm sorry, I..."

[montyprescottjoie]

Monty’s fists clenched again as tears threatened to spill. He hated feeling so vulnerable, so exposed. The betrayal had cut deep, exposing wounds he thought had healed.

...One that now felt like a dagger piercing his heart; the image of Vitya sharing a whole secret life with another. He felt hollow, empty, as if a part of him had been ripped away. His heart ached so fiercely that it was hard to breathe. The pain was sharp, like the glass of a broken bottle stabbing into him.

The most maddening thing right this moment was how much Monty still wanted Vitya. He so badly wanted comfort, and the only person who could provide what he needed right now was the one causing the pain.

He loved Vitya, and that love made the pain ten times worse.

"Was any of it real? Was there ever gonna be a production contract? Or was that just another way ta keep me on the hook, huh? How 'bout 'cos ya actually tryin' ta make it past 30? Realized I was fine for a few years'a fun, but need ta have some wife-in-trainin' at home for when ya got done with me?!"

[vityacristo]

The sounds of crunching, crashing, shattering, and liquid splatter rattled his office. His laptop screen snapped when it hit the ground, keys flying. The three separate piles of work files he was behind on, scattered and toppled, mixed together in an impossible mess. Pens and paperclips, even his stupid fucking stamp pad, tossed. Two coffee cups, half-drank, shattered and spilled onto the floor. Even his phone went flying, hitting wall then the ground with a shattering crunch. Vitya didn't give a fuck about any of it. He stood and watched.

With his office in tatters, and Monty a blurry rage, Vitya was the only solitary being in the room. The walls shook with Monty's voice, no doubt the rest of the office hearing the explosion. Vitya's sweaty hands gripped and released, shame coming up with bile in his throat. Monty had it all figured out without him even talking.

He swallowed what came up, lips quivering. "I'm sorry." It's all he had. Even worse than Monty angry over him leaving, when the excuses were plentiful and died as they came out, he had nothing to say here. He cheated. He cheated, was conscious of it, and did it anyway, thinking the reward of feeling good was enough motivation to keep going.

"I couldn't choose..." he whispered. He didn't know if Monty actually wanted his questions answered, rhetorical or not. He did all the things Monty was accusing him off. He had warnings, opportunities to do right, and he didn't take them. He was the spoiled fucking rich kid, just like Monty said, using everyone around him like toys, to be discarded when he didn't have fun anymore. Regardless of how he good it made him feel, he did love wrong. It was all lies, a trick, all the way down to... to how good he felt. Whatever he felt, about Monty, about Lemon... It wasn't love. It had to be something as disgusting as his actions. Love wasn't what he did.

His heart hurt.

[montyprescottjoie]

"Ya couldn' choose? Ya couldn't fuckin' choose? Ya've gotta be fuckin' shitting me! Afta everythin', every fuckin' thing we've done, all the shit thrown at us an' it wasn't enough ta make ya choose me beyond doubt, beyond question! What do I gotta do ta get that? Gotta rip my own heart outta my chest?"

Monty held nothing back. This was quite possibly the first time in his life he said every single thing that came to mind the moment he thought it. He'd always been impulsive, especially in emotionally charged situations, but usually he was able to hold back his most personal feelings, the ones he himself barely understood, or even knew were there.

Eventually, Monty ran out of things to break, and standing still for a moment, he was hit with bone-deep exhaustion. He staggered the few paces til his back hit a wall and allowed himself to slide down and sit on the floor, where he tried to pant and slow his breathing from the physical exertion of his tornado of destruction.

[montyprescottjoie]

To call for hands of above, to lean on Wouldn't be good enough, no

@vityacristo

[vityacristo]

'Tell me the truth.' Monty said. The stone in Vitya's stomach surged to his throat, choking him while threatening to be coughed out. He closed the office door, for what good it did at gaining privacy, and cowered in shame with his head down. The truth was killing him from the inside out, like poison, and sounded as much as it came out of his mouth in drips.

"I... I was with someone else." Vitya confessed. His knees threatened to give out with how much his legs were shaking. He swallowed, the type of fear inside him brand new. It truly felt like the world was ending.

"While I was- was starting over with you, I... I had someone at home. Another man." he said, not sure how much he could say before he'd end up beaten to a pulp. His eyes started to climb then, to Monty's face, wanting to see the blow coming when it did finally land.

Seeing the pain there, however, as Vitya confessed his sins, was worse than any physical blow could ever do.

"...I didn't mean for it to get this bad." he whispered, his voice wet and tight.

[montyprescottjoie]

Trying to hold back the urge to destroy made his muscles ache as they were drawn up tight. He needed to swing his fists at something, someone, or else his bones might shatter under his taut muscles. His fingernails were digging into his palms painfully, without something to grab onto and rip apart.

The moment Vitya admitted to what Monty already knew the fury won out…

"How th' fuck' could ya!" Monty exploded.

In a split second, he was at Vitya's desk, swiping everything to the floor in rage, and once the eruption began, there was no stuffing it neatly back into its box. It was volcanic: burning-hot tears flew from his eyes like molten lava; the poison sky, filled with clouds of ash and smoke, was replaced with venomous words.

"I waited for you, you piece of shit! -Let me think ya were mine while -‘ve always been yours. The little Prince just had to prove he could have everythin’? Little Suzy Homemaker an’ th’ skank on the side! Was she waitin’ for ya in ya little castle in the sky the day ya walked inta ma lab? What about the time I dropped ya off after dinner an’ showin ya the car? Was she in ya bed waitin for y ta come home?” Monty yelled, entirely unrestrained, stomping around the office, pulling anything he could reach off the surfaces and walls. It was the only way he could restrain himself from beating Vitya to a pulp, or from leaving the room from the window of the 23rd story.

[montyprescottjoie]

You help me sleep at night Help me turn off the lights Calm down my obsessed mind You're my religion

@vityacristo

[vityacristo]

"Okay." Vitya sat in his office when the phone call cut off, listening to the dead line beep for several seconds till his phone faded to locked. Sitting, stewing in his own misery as his death came riding on a subway train. He had no where to run to, no home to retreat to, no plan. Only impending consequences.

Vitya opened his desk drawer and took out a hidden ashtray. From inside his suit jacket came a lighter and a pack of Marlboro menthol blacks. He lit a cigarette, then finished it shortly after. Then another. Then another.

This had to be the longest thirty minutes of his life. Every time the elevator dinged for arrival, he flinched. The truth weighed on him like boulders, making the tiniest breath feeling like it was lifting it all. He was in a cycle of spiked anxiety and impending doom, until there was a knock on his door. A knock that wasn't soft like his assistant, or the rhythmic tapping of his team members, so that meant one person. Only one.

Vitya slowly stood, went over to the door, and opened slowly. He couldn't look up from the floor. If he saw Monty's face, the real one and not the one branded into his memory, he would fall apart. He had no right to do that, to feel bad. Yet, he still did. The presence in his office doorway was enough to feel like Hell's flames had come up to swallow him whole.

He moved to the side, giving enough room for Monty to come in. No hello, no make-out greeting. He was cold, defeated. A shell, cracked.

The door closed and his lip quivered, head hung low. "I'm sorry."

[montyprescottjoie]

Monty moved a little farther into the room, needing space because he felt so out of sorts, being confined near a wall was made him uncomfortable and he needed to be able to look at Vitya, to properly gauge him, to read his whole body language, not just his facial expressions, because apparently he'd been reading Vitya wrong all this time because he would never have believed Vitya could do this to him.

"Why? Tell me the truth! Tell me what ya did!" Monty snapped aggressively. Vitya appeared so pitiful and it only served to make Monty’s anger flare. Vitya wasn’t injured or sick or in danger that Monty could see; no mental breakdown or heart failure. He might not be an expert but he was certainly familiar with how they presented in Vit and this wasn’t it, not in Monty’s memory.

So, while Vitya appeared tired, exhausted even, he didn’t have the patience for the kicked puppy expression. He, Monty, should be the one about to cry, or commit homicide, he wasn’t entirely sure yet. First, Monty needed to hear it from Vitya himself, like the way a criminal must plead guilty or not guilty. A few years ago he wouldn’t have wanted to hear the truth because he knew how much it would hurt, instead he would he lashed out first, asked questions later, because he thought it would hurt less. He knew better now though. No matter how good a punch to the face might feel now, it would not make up for how bad he’d feel when he ended up in prison later.

[montyprescottjoie]

B-burn me down till we're nothin' but enemies Shut me out till we're nothin' but friends

@vityacristo

[twobabkas]

How about you tell me everything that's on your mind, but in Russian? I won't understand but maybe it'll help.

[vityacristo]

Vitya used the hand on the wall for balance to find a nearby bench in the hallway of the office building. His subordinates where shuffling out of the room, giving him looks varying from disappointment, to fear, to rage. He was just as broken as they were in that moment. He had no energy for it, not when Monty was finally returning his call.

"Work." Vitya answered immediately after the second question, to stunned to answer the first. Whatever Monty thought of the voicemail, he didn't sound... mad? Enraged? Desperate, out of breath, on edge. It could be Vitya's imagination, or the pain in his chest reaching out for the man on the other line, either way, there was only one path forward.

"My office is, um..." His mask was breaking down as the failure inside made his eyes start to water. "O-on the twenty third floor. Elevator code 8946, will send you up. Last office on the end." As he spoke, he slowly got up from the bench, dragging himself back into the meeting room where a few stragglers stared while he grabbed his laptop. His phone was still to his ear, a reminder of his failure to them even more.

His breathing picked up as he rushed out of the room to said office. "It's um... I-I need to talk to you. About a lot. And none of it is good." he explained, not wanting to do this over the phone but too uneasy to talk about anything else.

[montyprescottjoie]

Work, okay, Monty could work with that; he knew where that was; he could get there. In fact, he knew the place quite well; he'd never been inside, but he'd picked up Vit there a few times now, only to pick Vit up outside so they could race around in their car; he'd never been inside, never mind up to the executive levels.

But what the fuck was he doing at work right now?? After that message the night before? Something had already been wrong last night; why the hell would he be at work today?

Monty stood from his spot as more of his cohort began exiting the building. He didn’t want any of them listening in on this conversation. There was a reason he hadn’t shared in the meeting today. It was too heavy, too personal, and too raw. He wanted to be left alone with this hurricane of emotions, but Monty needed to know. He needed to understand.

Once Vitya had rattled off the information, Monty speedwalked back to the subway with his brow furrowed as Vitya explained, albeit incredibly vaguely, the reason for the original phone call.

"Okay, stay there, don'- just- a'l be there al'ight." Monty stuttered out as he picked up speed, jogging the last few feet to the station. "Thirty minutes, al'ight?" He said by way of farewell before losing cell signal going underground to the platform.

Breathing heavily, Monty rode the train across town, unable to calm his mind. Arriving at Vitya's workplace, Mont was forced to show his ID and submit to a metal detector wand as though he were moving through the prison system... Though it was certainly more akin to standard airport security than the invasive nature of entering prison, Monty had far more experience with the Department of Corrections than he did with airports; in fact, the only time he'd been on an airplane was when he and Vit had been to Russia...

Finally, the smooth elevator came to a halt, and the doors opened, revealing the twenty-third floor. It was oddly quiet up here, with fewer staff bustling around and closed doors hiding whatever was going on inside the offices. He knocked on the door to the last office, biting his lip nervously, feeling out of place, even more so than at the fancy restaurant they'd been to on the date that felt like eons ago now...

[free-my-mindd]

[stydiaislove]

[marys-ghost]

I dont care if you came back wrong, you came back. That's all that matters to me.

[vityacristo]

Vitya waited. And waited. He postponed a meeting, and waited more. But nothing happened. His phone sat dead on his desk. He sat in his dark office, door locked, and waited for a call that didn't come. He was about to call himself, put the gun to his own head willingly, but had run out of time before he realized. He couldn't sit by the phone any more. He had one meeting, a very important meeting, the meeting, today. The one that decided if Vitya's revisions worked, that his deal was accepted. After half a year fighting to get Monty and his team a six figure salary position. Fighting to make this little punk ass lab with a bully of a boss in New York an industry titan overnight, with an construction plan and ten-year commitment.

Fighting for Monty, while also lying every step of the way. Fighting and lying about the beautiful creature he shared his bed with. Fighting and lying and fucking, then showing up at Monty's place like a child demanding seconds of dessert. All him. All his fault. He cheated, loved two people at once, lied the entire time, he ruined Lemon and Monty's lives.

How ironic, the world was, blowing his life up when the last thing he could do was implode on himself. His limbs ached to give up, not even show up to the meeting anymore, but the pain in his chest surged at the very idea of it.

The pain turned to stabbing when, while in a meeting room full of his team and his father on a massive call screen, he was told his proposal was rejected, with prejudice. He failed. He failed, and if his father said 'come home', he would have no choice but to listen, or risk his entire position as heir.

All of it, his entire life, was shattering. And all he had to show for it was heart rate warnings on his health watch.

Monty's call came in right when his father ended his live feed, the meeting room full of people with their jobs in limbo, staring at him for direction. No time to process, no time to digest, just two rows of eyes pointed at him. And as his mouth opened to try and be that leader he so desperately wanted to be, his cell phone rang. Vitya saw Monty's name, heart pounding with want, and he left them all behind to step out of the room and pick up without hesitation.

He pressed the phone to his ear, his breathing rapid and stressed. His voice came out croaked, strained, holding back the breakdown he wished he could collapse into.

"...I'm sorry." Vitya finally said into the silent line. "I fucked up, I failed, I... I..." He coughed, forgetting to pull the phone away from his mouth, putting a hand on the wall to keep his shaking legs upright. "I'm sorry."

[montyprescottjoie]

Monty let out a huge sigh of relief, that was most certainly audible through the phone line, when he finally heard Vitya's voice.

He hadn't run; he hadn't fled the country; he hadn't abandoned Monty. Just like he'd promised, Vitya had kept his promise! Monty was lost for words. Part of him wanted to scream and destroy Vitya for what he'd done, but Vitya had kept his promise! He'd stayed! That alone made his heart so full.

Vitya's tone, however, had Monty furrowing his brow in concern. He didn't sound healthy, and that cough didn't help dissuade Monty from thinking something was very wrong...

"Where are ya?" Monty quickly demanded. He needed to lay his eyes on the man he loved. Needed to feel Vitya warm and solid beneath his own hands. Even filled with pain and anger, the thought of being without Vitya safely beside him made Monty's blood run cold.

Without Vitya beside him, Monty felt untethered, like a balloon flying higher and higher after the string had slipped from a small hand that had once cherished their prize, only to discard him for a shiny new jewel... How could anyone not discard him? He was no catch, after all, not for someone like the new Vitya.

Even if New Vitya was going to end things between them, replace Mont with a new, cleaner, safer, more appropriate version, or even if the first thing Mont himself ended up doing was punch Vit in the face for what he'd done, Monty had to see him.

"Where are ya? I gotta see ya." He urged, barely a breath after the first demand.

[still-asunbeam]

actually i don't want to talk about my feelings i'd rather engage in hand to hand combat

[vityacristo]

Behold, a man.

An evil man. A stupid, arrogant, selfish man.

After Cameron left with a small selection of Lemon's things, the apartment felt like a torture cell. Everywhere he looked, there was something of her there. Her kindness, her trust, her love, that he threw away. That he used to wipe his mouth with and toss like a napkin as he devoured her like a meal. The whole time, he convinced himself it was love... but people don't love like this. Not the way he seemed to. He didn't dare take the cookies out of the oven. Looking at them would only make him sick more. After he emptied what little was in his stomach into the sink, he shakily made his way back down to his car, and got in, gasping for air as his eyes burned.

Vitya got a hotel that night. Not a fancy one, a chain hotel, normal room, someplace where he'd blend in. Someolace where hearing a man flipping between pissed off sobs and loathing whimpers would be left alone. Dogmeat was with him- he brought all of his shit, like his toys and blanket and bowl, but didn't bother to grab his own toothbrush as he left. Whatever, he'd buy another, everything in the apartment soiled with his filth. He picked a pet-friendly hotel, since he would need to leave his boy someplace while he was at work.

And yes, he was going to work. Normally, he'd lie, say he was a sick so he could wallow in the bed and feel sorry for himself. Lying, though, was making him actually sick. He had been doing a lot of that lately, and it was only ruining him more and more.

Monty hadn't called him back. He had to have heard his voicemail by now. With everything going on, with Lemon saying his name to him in the kitchen, the silence from him was unsettling. If he figured it out... And Cameron's words about sharing with the other person... It felt like foreshadowing. Like he'd be doing this with Monty, soon enough. But this time, it wouldn't be like sweet Lemon, where his soul disintegrated, watching an angel die before him by his own hand. No, telling Monty- he may actually kill him. Monty may just decide that enough was enough, and end the pain for good, once he learned just how absolutely Vitya betrayed him. Ruined him. Abused him.

...Vitya might just let him do it, too.

With half an hour till his scheduled arrival time at the office, Vitya gave Dogmeat a quick walk around the outside of the hotel before locking him in the room for the day, having to see if his dog-sitter could do an emergency session. Even doing this felt like agony, a moment of distraction from anything but his regret making the shame even worse. The guilt was eating him alive. But even with all this going on, and yet to go on, he still had a job. A job Monty depended on. And just like how Lemon deserved to live at his apartment even if she did hate him, he had to do similar for Monty. He had to work, because Monty's job depended in him to do his.

Mid-day came and went. Nothing. Vitya's leg bounced as he sat at his desk, the caffeine in his system from six consecutive cups of coffee before ten AM making him both exhausted and wired. He wanted to sleep, he wanted to cry, he wanted- he wanted the pain to stop. He couldn't focus on work, on his father's requests. He hadn't finished a single agenda item today, no analysis sent, no market report, nothing! All he could think of was his fuck up.

And how the longer time went on, the less time Vitya had before he had no choice but to call Monty first. That thought had him biting his lip as he glared out his office window.

@montyprescottjoie

[montyprescottjoie]

Monty made it halfway to the nearest subway station to Vitya's apartment before remembering he'd driven the car. It was only a couple of blocks, but he was so mentally exhausted that he was dragging his feet; a ten-minute walk had taken him half an hour, like he was wearing Cement shoes. His conversation with Lemon hadn't even been all that long, and yet he felt like a completely different person than the man who had knocked wildly at that door searching for his love.

He clenched his fists, feeling the cold steering wheel beneath his palms. Driving back to his own apartment, Monty's thoughts were a whirlwind. Every mile felt heavier, the silence inside his car deafening. He wanted to scream, to cry, to do something, anything, to drown out the ache inside.

Once home, Monty flopped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to find comfort in the darkness. His heart ached so fiercely that it was hard to breathe. Sleep was out of the question; His mind replayed the moment when he had found Lemon over and over. Every detail was burned into his mind; the terrified blonde he'd almost...

Monty's heart was pounding in his chest, a tumult of pain, anger, and disbelief swirling inside him. Vitya had lied, betrayed their trust, and crushed the fragile hope Monty had clung to. He had thought they were building something real, something solid. Now that illusion was shattered. He loved Vitya. That love hadn't faded, despite everything. A part of him desperately wanted to believe it was all a mistake, that somehow, this could be fixed.

Monty finally nodded off, sleeping in fits and starts as the white noise of the city that never sleeps soothed him. The cool, comfortable breeze from the open window allowed him to nod off for short spurts only to be woken by his own nightmares of hurried footsteps, muffled voices, Vitya's face betraying a flicker of guilt before he hurriedly closed the door behind his lover. Apparently his subconscious felt he hadn't been punished enough by just meeting Lemon...

The temptation to give in—to numb the ache—grew stronger with every passing minute. He considered reaching for a bottle, a crutch he had sworn never to use again. But tonight, the temptation was almost irresistible. The thought of breaking his sobriety, of losing control, loomed large in his mind. It seemed like an easy way to numb the pain, to forget the heartbreak, even if just for a little while.

Monty reached into his pocket and pulled out the little round plastic token. His collection of inscribed poker chips were the only possessions he'd gained in prison that he still owned, and this one in particular he kept close at all times.

His one-year sober chip.

Mont rubbed his thumb over the raised lettering: One Day at a Time, which was inscribed on one face.

In the quiet darkness, Monty made a decision. He wouldn't give in to the urge to drink tonight. He knew he had come too far to let this break him. Instead, he closed his eyes and took deep, trembling breaths, trying to find some semblance of calm amidst the chaos.

The next time Monty opened his eyes, the sun was trying to squeeze through the gaps in his blinds. He hadn't drunk, but he felt hungover; eyes sore and head pounding. He gulped down several glasses of water before his brain caught up with his body. He did not want to be awake, but he knew he needed a meeting, and he couldn't do that from bed; half of the way the program worked for him was the ritual of actually showing up at the place; the video chat groups didn't work for him. He checked the time on the microwave. If he showered now, he could make it to the LGBT Center in the West Village by 11 a.m. He'd figure the rest out after that.

It took until the end of the meeting, during which he did not choose to share, to find the courage to turn his phone back on.

A pang in his chest reverberated to the tips of his fingers when no calls or messages came through. Monty wasn't sure what he was expecting. Did Vitya even know that Monty knew what he'd been doing? Had Lemon confronted him? Had Vitya even made it home last night? Monty'd almost forgotten the voicemail that started all of this, and just like that, panic set in. But he shouldn't be panicking; he should be seething; he should never want to see Vitya again, and yet, as angry and hurt as he was, his heart ached the way it did the last time Vitya disappeared...

Monty sat on the steps outside the LGBT center, where he often stopped for a smoke before a meeting, and hit the call back button beside the voicemail from Vit. He lit up a smoke while the phone rang, needing something to keep his hands busy before he chickened out.

[quotemadness]

And when I asked you how you’d been, I meant I missed you more than I’ve ever missed anything before.

Iain Thomas