TITLE: Finishing Fights
TIMEFRAME: Evening on the 31st of October, Halloween Masquerade.
TAGGING: Cassius Westbrooke ( @cruelboy ) + Graham Montgomery.
TOTAL: 3,399 words.
NOTES: Complete; and followed up by the thread ‘Patio.’
Graham had been out in the hallway, heading to get a different mask. His borrowed one didn't seem to quite fit his face. He wouldn't have been worried about it but he'd gotten the impression that it drew him more attention that he would have liked. Graham would pick something more subtle. Though, he'd only chosen the mask he had because it afforded him the illusion of anonymity. Too much plumage.
He was coming out of the display room where the school trove was on display when another student had come down the hallway too. He'd been intent on keeping to himself but that wasn't what the other student -- rather students -- had in mind for him. Two flanked the hall while one exchanged some choice words with him. Graham responded in kind and a punch was thrown.
Graham struck the student's windpipe and shoved him quickly into the wall. He drew his fist back and landed a first satisfying punch. He should've been more gentle, given the other boy's smaller height, but he couldn't leave well enough alone. Graham pulled back and landed another punch.
"Go ahead," he said, eyes flat, edge to his voice. "Call out for help. I'm sure your friends are eager to have their chance. Go on."
Cassius didn’t go looking for trouble, trouble usually found him, etcetera, etcetera. Cassius was one to pick fights and most of the time he didn’t cast too much judgement on those who did. Good for them he usually thought when he saw two guys duke it out in the halls of Lowell. Really, there was a lot a good punch could fix.
This however did not include any punches thrown by Graham. Cassius had a whole different set of rules when it came to Graham.
He heard the crack as the punch landed. Recognized the silhouette (Cassius was certain he would recognize Graham anywhere.) He’d been watching Graham from the corner of his eye the whole evening and even from across the room he’d noticed something was off. He was finally starting to understand what exactly that was now as the man hissed heated words and stoked the fight. This was abnormal.
“What the actual fuck, Graham?!”
Cassius snarled and his hand grabbed Graham’s elbow, the one cocked and ready to through another punch. He tugged hard, in no way being gentle, hoping to pull the other man back even though he had a few inches on him.
“You’re what? Picking fights with guys smaller than you now? Since when are you about unfair fights? Back the fuck off.” Harsh words masked concern. If there was any concern to be found, it was buried under mountains of anger. So much anger that Cassius was ready to deck Graham himself just to get him to listen. Before this though, he turned back to the man at the end of Graham’s wrath.
“And you - why are you still here? Now would be a great time for you to get out of here. Run, kid.”
Graham almost whirled around and decked the person who'd grabbed his arm Almost. He figured it was another one of them and honestly he relished it. He had learned basics of hand to hand combat in West Point and had been addicted ever since.
He'd taken Jiu Jitsu and Tae Kwan Do very sporadically. Each required structure and discipline but Hunter had his priorities on West Point when he was learning. He wouldn't let forms of fighting interfere in his future.
Here he had no future. Here he had only time. Time and enemies.
He near growled as the boy scampered away. His flat, dead eyes turned to Cassius now and he got into his space. "I didn't start that fight, but I was sure as hell going to finish it," he said. It was an anthem as much as a statement. He didn't go picking random people in the halls. They picked him. It was always him. "Three against one. Definitely doesn't seem like him being smaller was so much a concern for him if he and his buddies felt brave enough to punch me."
Graham could already feel the swelling of what would become a minor black eye. The jerkoff couldn't even throw a decent punch. It nearly took the fun out of it. "You let an enemy know what you'll do to one if they cross you when you're outnumbered and the rest will think twice. And don't think for one second his cronies wouldn't have joined in to kick me when I was down."
His urges were driving this aggravation, at least in part. Coupled with his anger at the world and his disbelief in the point to anything and Graham would be happy to serve a few detentions for this. Westinghouse wouldn't need another scandal on his hands so Graham did the mental calculus rather quickly. Indulged in some aggression.
"You let him get away," he said. Though all the force from earlier had nearly left him at the sight of Cassius. Nearly. "Don't you have a date to get back to?" asked Graham, referencing the one who supposedly was his boyfriend now. He was suspiciously never anywhere to he seen, not that Graham looked.
His eyes hardened at the mention. No, Graham wasn’t wrong. And if it were Cassius, he would have turned down the hall gone after the attackers himself. For all Cassius’ love for politics, the chess move he’d just pulled was a shitty one. But his own actions were dictated by one simple thing: he didn’t want Graham to get hurt — which, evidently, was so fucking stupid because it was clear Graham would have just gone and done it all over again if he had the chance. Cassius should have just let him bleed out on this hallway. Did he have any idea how frustrating it was to deal with someone so stubborn?
“Yeah, yeah, you’ve made your point. Machiavelli’s rolling in his grave and all that. But there’s something to be said for going against an enemy when you don’t know the extent of their forces.”
A beat. Who was he? He’d never follow such advice. Maybe that’s why so many people dished it out. A lot easier to preach than enact.
For a moment, Cassius let silence stretch between them then, allowing it to turn into the shape of the chasm that distanced them in the years. Just a few hands of space between them now and yet — the black eye was darkening right before him. The corner of Cassius’ mouth ticked into a frown at the continued sight. There was an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne through the door to his right. If he could just grab it... there was a handkerchief in his pocket.... it would be easy enough to fashion up a poor man’s ice pack.
“Want to go find them?” He muttered as he stepped forward so that he was facing Graham. “They can’t have gotten far.”
His fingers came up to gingerly touch the shiner that was blooming black and blue across his exes’ face. Up close, the bruise made Cassius want to hiss. It would definitely still be there tomorrow. And probably would still be there while Graham paid for this whole ordeal with detention. Another gold star on the Montgomery name. Cassius wanted to make a joke about how if anyone was going to bruise Graham up, it was going to be Cassius.
“Might be a good idea to keep the masque around for the rest of the week, huh?” Cassius said instead, keeping the same cold tone to his voice. His lips pressed into a thin line at the accusation. “Oh, I more than let him go; I told him to go,” Cassius continued, trying to keep his tone casual though it came through gritted teeth. A clear: are we going to fight about this too? “Let’s not sell what I did short here.”
Cassius held a stellar poker face as Graham asked about his boyfriend. His fucking what? Oh right, his boyfriend. That little lie had almost slipped away from him. But Cassius was nothing if not committed to the bit. Standing here with Graham, he wondered why he so desperately wanted to twist the knife. Especially since he was certain every time he twisted it in Graham, he felt it in himself too.
“My date is fine not being attached to my hip all night.” Cassius said coldly. ‘Where’s your date? Oh right, dead.’ Was probably not an appropriate follow up.
“We don’t need to be seen together everywhere we go. It’s my birthday I can do what I want.” Cassius always did what he wanted, that was besides the point. “We will have great sex later and it’ll be fine.”
He should lay off, before he sounded too defensive. Besides, they hadn’t even addressed the biggest elephant in the room. That which was clearly the source of their current dilemma. He folded his arms and stared the other down.
“When was the last time you dommed someone?” It wasn’t a come on and he’d give Graham another black eye to match if he so much as presumed such. “Like Jesus fucking Christ how hard could it be in a place like this? And don’t - “ He felt the space in his chest tighten slightly. “Don’t say you can’t cause of him.”
Graham shook his head. “Wouldn’t matter how many there were. Whatever happened to me would be on their heads.” Of course that same reality went both ways. He had never intended to hurt the other students in any serious or lasting way. Though Graham had been making a lot of surprising decisions ever since his loss. Decisions his honor would previously have never allowed him to make. Careless, reckless decisions.
He almost wanted to take Cassius up on his offer to go find them. That sort of vengeance had never been in his blood before but Graham had begun to grow comfortable with the idea of walking darker roads. There was no journey, no destination scarier and more bleak than the one he’d walked with Alec.
Graham winced and pulled back as Cassius’ fingers came to inspect his developing bruise in an act that felt familiar and kind and all too dissonant with where they were at these days. They were equal parts bile and banter interlaced with the knowledge that comes from intimacy. His answering glare held an edge to it but he couldn’t deny that he’d inspect Cassius in much the same way if he were in Graham’s position. All chastising, dispensing advice, examining the damage.
He wasn’t ready to grapple with what these actions spoke of. They could pretend they stopped caring about each other with the ending of their relationship but that sort of bold faced lying could never survive the naked gaze of either man’s scrutiny. It would crumble like the decaying facade of a historic building. As it was, Graham’s shoulders tensed and his lips pressed lightly together at the examination Cassius was giving his eye. The only warmth he offered was the brief lift of a corner of his lips at the joke about keeping his mask around.
“We all have our masks,” he said quietly. Vague, brooding. Yes, let Cassius figure out what he meant by that. Let it settle into his thoughts and cloud everything like an inescapable dust he would futilely and fruitlessly try to clear.
Graham rolled his eyes at Cassius’ assertion of his later evening activities. “Those who actually have great s-- don’t need to say they are.” The Dominant moved forward, urging Cassius to back toward the wall, features smug and knowing. “They simply exude it. They make it obvious with everything but their words.” He quirked a brow. “As I’m sure you remember.”
A subtle brag to speak of the ability they both knew Graham had.
If there was any certainty Graham held about what Cassius would ask next it flew out the window with the question posed.
A flash of anger had Graham’s jaw flexing, his cheeks newly hot, and his gaze sharp as it bore into his ex. Had it not come with his disbelief in the effects of Graham’s grief it might’ve been better received. As it was this was both invalidating and insensitive. He backed the other even further up against the wall.
“You really don’t get it, do you?” he asked. “You really don’t understand what it feels like to lose what I’ve lost. To wake up in the morning and wonder why you ever opened your eyes. To feel like you’ve lost a piece of yourself -- a vital organ -- and can’t get treatment for it because you can’t pick out the parts of you damaged by the wound.” He shook his head. “If you got it...if you understood that loss...you would never be able to choke those words past your lips. You would never say it like that.”
Graham stood there trying to calm himself down. He shook his head. “Who are you to ask me about my needs when you’ve spent your entire life ignoring everything about what you are?” Graham lifted his brows. “Answer me.”
He pressed further still. “When was the last time for you?”
Cassius isn’t the kind to be walked backwards into a wall, and yet here he is, being walked backwards into a wall. He would have kissed Graham, in that moment, a gesture that would be more attack than an act of intimacy; a way to slip out of corner he’s been backed into. It would be easier, Cassius thinks, than sitting here and talking to Graham about the different masks they wear. The other is looking smug now as he talks about people who have great sex, poking Cassius to remember. It’s a dangerous game, opening that particular box of memories, but there Graham goes, poking. It makes Cassius want to poke back harder.
In fact, thumb comes up, to teasingly trace the sharp angle of the Dom's jaw he knows so well. A mistake in its own right, because this small bit of contact will sustain him for years. The memories that Graham stirs up have heartbeats of their own. For as much as Cassius liked to talk, there isn't much need for words between them. He doesn’t need to say he remembers, he knows Graham knows he does. It's the simplicity of them.
It is the talk of Alec that causes him to freeze, drop his hand and instead let fingers curl into a fist, pressing painful crescent moons into his palm. There’s no denying the sorrow in Graham’s voice. Anger, some hurt too. Graham is living with an open wound and Cassius is just watching him bleed out.
Who is he to ask such things? Especially when Graham has made it so vividly clear in so many words that he is has no space for him in that shattered heart of his. For a blink in time, Cassius doesn’t even care that there is no space for him, he thinks about the ways he could make himself slightly smaller so that his presence is instead inconsequential. Maybe he could slip into a corner of Graham’s heart in a way the other would never notice, in a way that wouldn’t take up emotions or time, just a little bit of space so he could still be there. Stubbornly digging in his heels, planting himself, till Graham’s heart stitched itself back together. It’s a thought that lasts just a blink. And then Cassius is back to his cruel ways.
There’s that demanded ‘Answer me,’ - a statement that Cassius feels compelled to respond to for reasons that he’d rather shoot himself over than dig into or uncover. He won’t answer him. “How about we hit pause on the Spanish fucking Inquisition, huh? I don’t see why I have to answer you, when you won’t answer me.”
Maybe he should’t go looking for that ice bucket. All of a sudden, Cassius doesn’t trust himself to not throw it at Graham, bucket and ice and bottle and all.
“And I would consider that maybe you don’t know as much about my needs as you like to think you do." Cassius continues, venomously. "I left for a reason didn’t I? Really proving it was the right decision.”
It’s a low blow. Frosty words born of hate and confusion and hurt of his own. They are completely unfair - and completely cruel. Cassius doesn’t mean them, but he’s already said them. He takes a step to the side, so that he’s no longer between Graham and the wall. “Anyway, wouldn't want to keep you from your date.”
He’s looking to cut this conversation short, but hates how closely he listens for the affirmation that Graham is here with someone else. That dreadful hope he gets a name. “Steal some ice from his drink or something for that black eye.”
There's a moment where the subtle trace of his jaw with Cassius' thumb has Graham staying still. If not to figure out what was happening then at least because it felt comforting. He hadn't been touched by Cassius in this way for a long time and the ghost of it seemed to beckon life back into Graham's thoughts of their past. He knew this was a dangerous game and knew that Cassius understood exactly what he was doing. Playing with fire was Cassius Westbrooke's specialty and he remained skilled at it.
Determining his intentions...sifting through his actions...had become harder now than it had ever been before. Though even when they were angry at each other they couldn't help but care about each other. Cassius asking after his Dominance and Graham worried, too, about Cassius' stubborn will not to give his body what it needed. Often to the detriment of his health. Graham could never quite understand it before.
Now that he was denying himself for other reasons Graham had a different perspective. Perhaps the impetus was different but the mechanism was the same: the mind. The mind fed into the body and the body the mind. There was no escaping its reciprocal nature. If one of them had a problem with submission or Dominance then it effected them both.
His anger was satisfying but confusing all at once. Cassius had always been more than antagonistic toward Alec even after his death and Graham couldn't figure out why. This wasn't a competition. It would be like trying to compare the moon and the sun. Both celestial entities, both crucially important, but so different that each were their own undeniable category. It made Graham want to press the issue. Get answers. Certainly he needed to get to the bottom of these. But Cassius was content to clam up.
The venom was also expected but how much it hurt was not. Graham /had/ left Cassius and yet he thought they'd both understood the purpose. The good it would do in Graham's life.
He had never forsaken his duty to Cassius for his duty to his Country but he knew that he'd had to put Cassius on the back burner anyway. He just never thought it had impacted Cassius' views on Graham's ability as a Dominant. He had never meant to not take care of what was his. It had made him feel stuck in an impossible position and when they'd broken up Graham saw the merit in letting Cassius go to be able to look after something that he temporarily could not look after.
It had never been out of a lack of desire or want. The capability of Graham's to carry out the responsibility had been hindered. It was a subject of guilt on his part because he would always wonder if he could have tried harder to do more to make Cassius' health more of a priority while he was at school.
"Perhaps you're right," said Graham. He straightened his jacket. "Thank you for the advice."
Graham dipped his head once and set off in the opposite direction of the ballroom. He shot off a quick text to Liam, saying he'd been delayed and would meet up with him later. The best thing he could do for anyone right now was to be alone.
