sirmontgomery

[sirmontgomery]

How do I start letting it go? How will it end? When will I know? Don’t want to stay down But scared of the fall I’m a balancing act That’s all Been speaking in tongues It’s touch and it’s go With nowhere to run And nothing to show When I fall apart, nobody knows It’s all spinning around me I’ve got nothing to ground me I went to the house It all looks the same The baby blue couch The photoless frames And I’m just outside And nothing is clear My nose to the glass And I can still hear you say It’ll be a good year It’ll be a good year

[sirmontgomery]

Such Beauty | Self Para

Title:  Such Beauty Timeframe: Three years ago.  Tagging: Alec York and Graham Montgomery.    Total: 1,642  Triggers: Terminal Illness. Hospitals. Major surgery. Death.    Notes: Complete.

"Are you scared?"

"Of a little surgery...?" Graham smiled. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

Alec reached out and took Graham's hand, a small smile on his lips, which didn't quite reach his eyes. It was still a happy smile but Graham could tell that his husband was tired. The treatment they'd undertaken to shrink the tumor had taken its toll on Alec's body. It showed in his energy, which seemed to come in spurts.

"I've seen you reading that brochure at least a dozen times the past two hours." He chuckled. "You must have it memorized."

Graham realized he'd still been holding it in his free hand. The one not occupied by Alec's.

He set it down with a little laugh. Wiped his hand on his jeans. He realized his palms were a bit sweaty.

"I just want to be prepared," said Graham. It was partly his nature as a Dominant and a person. Ever since he was a young boy Graham always needed to have all the facts. His father had always been a responsible person and Graham fashioned parts of himself after Gregory. Another part of this preparedness was also military training. He wasn't a doctor, wasn't an expert, but that didn't mean he had to be useless. He wouldn't be the soldier on the front line but he could have the six of the soldier next to him.

Alec lifted his hand briefly from Graham's hand to stroke his cheek before closing his palm over Graham's again.

"Are you prepared?" asked Alec. There was something in his tone that Graham didn't like.

Graham blinked and stared. He was asking something Graham had kept at quite a distance for a very long time. "Well, the complications of the surgery...seem big..." said Graham carefully. "Though the doctor says these sorts of risks come with any surgery." Graham would be vague in his answer if that's what Alec wanted. "We're doing our part."

They'd chosen the aggressive therapies they had in order to attack the enemy. Cause the tumor to shrink. Get in with a scalpel and finish the job.

"Graham."

The Dominant stood. "The nurse should be by to check on your fluids," he checked on his watch. "Who is it today?" He went to a pile of his things and disentangled a planner from his coat and bag. There were many assorted personal items in that bag, from toothpaste, to deodorant, to dry shampoo and granola bars. "I think it might be Flores," he said casually over his shoulder, finger sliding down the pages.

"It's okay to be scared," said Alec. He had shifted his head on the pillow.

Graham felt his chest tighten. He shook his head. "Why should I be scared?" Graham asked. "I'm not scared."

Alec smirked. "Bullshit."

That's partly what Graham had loved about Alec. He wasn't afraid to call Graham out. He also gave him permission to feel the things he was afraid of feeling. It put Graham at ease to take action. To do all the reading. To keep up on the research articles online. To study the tips in all the forums at odd hours while Alec slept.

"I know you watch me..." said Alec. "At night. Like...it's intense." Alec swallowed. "Like you're waiting for something."

Graham never knew Alec woke in the night.

"Sometimes I watch you too."

He closed the planner and looked at the dark haired sub. "I'm listening," Graham said, finally. "Not watching." Graham held the planner in his hands as he walked back to Alec's bedside. "I'm listening to hear you breathing."

There were many fears that Graham had about what was happening and what was to come. The scariest ones were the things Graham pictured could happen that they didn't see coming. Alec not breathing in the middle of the night because his blood pressure dropped or because a tube wasn't giving him enough fluids or a million other things...all kept Graham up.

"I'm telling our kids that their father was a creep," said Alec.

Graham barked out a laugh. It was unexpected. Alec had the most unexpected talent for bringing Graham out of himself.

"Actually," said Graham. "I was looking at what work we might be able to ask the plastic surgeon to do on you whilst you're under. You know...combine cosmetic with medical..." His humor never would've been so macabre before. This seemed to lighten both of their moods.

"Oh please," Alec rolled his eyes. "You think I'm perfect. What could you possibly want done? God made me a work of art."

Graham smiled down at Alec and ran his fingers over Alec's scalp. His hair had thinned some because of the medicine but they'd had to shave it for the surgery anyway. "He did."

Alec grabbed Graham's hand again. He kissed it.

"If something happens..."

"It won't." Graham shook his head.

"If something happens..." Alec pressed forward. "I want you to...find someone. I want you to find someone."

"Alec."

"I mean, obviously they won't be like me." He smiled. "You know. I want you to be happy."

Graham sighed heavily. Looked down.

"I mean, don't be too happy."

Graham gave a watery laugh. Shook his head.

"Like obviously not as happy as you were with me." Alec smiled tiredly. "But it's okay to be happy."

"I won't be happy," said Graham. "I'll be grumpy."

Alec rolled his eyes.

"I mean think of the paperwork you'll have left me with."

Alec gave a belly laugh. It was enough to crinkle the corner of Graham's eyes. They'd avoided having this talk for so long that Graham felt like it was for nothing. All that fear. This was easy. This was like walking the elephant out of the room and remembering its presence as one did a fond trip to the circus. Amusing to think about but rarely revisted.

"I know you hate paperwork," said Alec. "God, remember that time in third year..."

"Krazinski," Graham chuckled.

"You were in charge of his detail for the duty day and that man couldn't keep out of trouble to save his life."

"How he ever made it to graduation day, I'll never know," said Graham.

"You spent an hour talking to the commander and then another two filling out all those forms saying what happened."

"It was testimony from the others I had to sign as well. It started with that vacuum bin full of the dust that never seemed to fully be clear from the duty hall. He executed a facing movement right into the drill instructor on his way to empty it."

Alec laughed again and held his sides. "Didn't he drop that trash bag too?" Krazinski had. Some of it got on the drill instructor's uniform after they both fell.

Graham smiled and turned on the dim lamp above Alec's bed. He turned off the overhead fluorescents and moved back to his seat. He could tell Alec was getting tired. Besides, his big surgery was the next morning and Graham had been adamant about a bedtime. He'd even set an alarm for it on his phone; it would vibrate soon to let Graham know. But Graham already knew.

“And you got out of having to sign paperwork. Somehow.” Graham rolled his eyes this time.

"Remember when we..."

Graham nodded. "Week before grad week," he knew what Alec was going to mention. "We spent that whole leave in that sweet little town. Our unit was the one with all those merits from the instruction team. You were happy to sign then."

Alec relaxed, as if soothed by Graham's remembering. "That whole time I kept thinking...you were holding something in." He smiled, closing his eyes. "You know I thought you were going to break up with me."

Graham's brows lifted.

"I remember some talk with your parents. About whether or not to invite that ex of yours. His father was going to come or something." Alec yawned. "I was worried...you two had been in touch."

Graham didn't know how to feel about that. Everything outside of this room had seemed eons away. Distant islands to what they were experiencing now in the present. The mention of Cassius' name caused a twinge in Graham's heart but he didn't know why. He wasn't sure what to say in this moment. Cassius was always a love present in his heart. Though his love for Alec had grown somehow beside it in Graham's heart, in the spaces around it. Something that was hard to explain if he should ever have a need to put it into words. Thankfully, Graham never needed to.

Strange how the strands of fate worked. He had once thought it his fate to be with Cassius. To have a family with him. To be his Dominant. Then that relationship ended. In the shambles of those dreams...in the fraying of that strand...he'd found another fate. The end of that relationship had led him into Alec's arms. Perhaps that might have been his fate all along. Though that didn't sit right in Graham's heart either, for some reason.

Graham brought Alec's hand up to his lips and gave their enclosed fingers a kiss. "It was that week on leave when I proposed to you..." he reminded the submissive. Graham remembered everything about it. The trip up the lake. A boat ride surrounded by swans. They'd made love in a clearing just after.

"I see now..." Alec whispered, eyes still closed. "Such beauty...such beauty you have brought me."

Graham's heart twisted. He felt his gut clench. He took Alec's hand though his husband was now asleep. Graham could tell by his breathing pattern.

"You have to be happy," he murmured.

Graham wondered if he was dreaming.

He hoped it was a good dream. As Graham turned off the light above Alec's bed he knew that he wouldn't sleep.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Graham silenced the alarm letting him know it was time for lights out.

He couldn't let go of Alec's hand. He didn't the whole night.

[sirmontgomery]

[sirmontgomery]

We all move forward anyway. Ripples in all directions. What is a ghost? Something dead that seems to be alive. Something dead that doesn’t know it’s dead.

Richard Siken, from “Landscape with Fruit Rot and Millipede”, published “War of the Foxes” (via weltenwellen)

[sirmontgomery]

[sirmontgomery]

Texts✉️Cassius & Graham

[ Cassius sees Graham sail his larger yacht next to Sebastian’s during St. Clair’s New Year’s Eve party. The exes exchange texts. @cruelboy ]

CASSIUS → TEXT: oh, you didn’t

GRAHAM → TEXT: To what are you referring? TEXT: Your incredulity is so easily won, I have to ask for distinction.

CASSIUS → TEXT: who said you’ve won it?   TEXT: good to see the virgil is still alive and kicking   TEXT: sebastian is distracted but he’ll be fuming when he sees it

GRAHAM → TEXT I just had a feeling. TEXT: Did you miss her? She's quite a bit larger than the "Atlas" but she still fits in the dock. TEXT: Seeing as I wasn't invited to the gathering this evening but still had a craving for nautical fun... TEXT: This seemed the practical solution. TEXT: Are you enjoying yourself?

CASSIUS → TEXT: oh a feeling? TEXT: perhaps. lots of sunny days on that deck.   TEXT: it’s the biggest party of the year   TEXT: three decks, a hot tub, and that fleur de lys suite   TEXT: even the sheets have over an 800 thread count   TEXT: what’s not to enjoy? TEXT: …..   TEXT: are you having nautical fun?

GRAHAM → TEXT: Maybe not incredulity but a little bit of mirth, then. If I can still read you. TEXT: A lot, yes. TEXT: Well the year's almost over. Plenty of opportunities for even bigger parties. TEXT: Sergey can have this year's last laugh. TEXT: I suppose the best part of any party is the company. Do you find yours enjoyable? TEXT: By the above standards, I am. Sawyer's party is a little too people filled for my liking. Besides. I can't get into any fights this way.

CASSIUS → TEXT: mirth is closer.   TEXT: Sebastian just noticed, he’s not laughing.   TEXT: I however am.   TEXT: they certainly know how to have a good time ;P   TEXT: your preference is what? having no one around?

GRAHAM → TEXT: Then what is it exactly? I like to know. TEXT: I didn't figure he would be. TEXT: A shame, since I find it quite amusing. TEXT: My preference is not having to deal with ignorance. TEXT: They've all branded me a pariah. I won't waste my time convincing them otherwise. TEXT: It's too tedious work with too little reward. TEXT: From our last conversation with Mr. Shen, you seem to have bought into their propaganda.

CASSIUS → TEXT: honestly the look on his face is fucking hilarious   TEXT: pffft   TEXT: more like, i’ve bought into getting Mr. Shen into my bed.   TEXT: those that label you a pariah are just looking for someone to blame   TEXT: but if you’re going to be blamed for doing anything, at least you’re getting blamed for doing the right thing   TEXT: they really aren’t worth convincing   TEXT: it’s called the gossip mill for a reason. ever turning. they’ll find something else to talk about soon TEXT: might even be the virgil

GRAHAM → TEXT: It's good to know we still share a mutual sense of enjoyment in Salazar's displeasure. TEXT: Hm. TEXT: What right thing would that be, exactly? TEXT: They aren't. Which is why I have no qualms not feigning interest in spending time in their company. TEXT: I doubt that. Not while the scholarship students are still at Lowell. I do think they're entirely content to blame me for that as long as they feel they can openly use me as a whipping boy because of it. TEXT: It may be...she's certainly larger than the Atlas, and a fair few do love to talk about size.

CASSIUS → TEXT: Proving that there is truth to the phrase “some things never change.”   TEXT: you already know, you don’t need me to tell you   TEXT: ..... TEXT: you know what?   TEXT: I personally think that if the world wasn’t making you miserable, you’d find a way to inflict it upon yourself.   TEXT: is size everything though? There’s something to be said about how you use it

[sirmontgomery]

And he knew it wasn’t going to be okay, and he told me it wasn’t going to be okay. And he wouldn’t kiss me, but he covered my body with his body…

Richard Siken, from The Torn-Up Road (via halflunar)

[sirmontgomery]

As I am certain you’re aware, Family Weekend is on the horizon, and soon it will be time for yourself and my siblings to pack a weekender and come see me. Or rather this is the time of year Lowell has allotted for such an occurrence. I find the exercise somewhat quaint, though I suppose there are some students here who would benefit from a dose of the familiar, in order to quell any bouts of homesickness. 

Please do not think what I say next is an indication that I'm immune to such bouts myself. I’m not. However I have come to accept that such moods are a part of adult life and a fact of growing older. They are simply an awareness of the distance between now and the circumstance of childhood where ample time together was mandated purely by age.

We are no strangers to distance, nor intimacy through correspondence, given it was my main means of communication at West Point Academy. 

I have to ask that you save your money and time. Spend it elsewhere. Lowell Academy has hardly been welcoming to me and though I suffer the slings and arrows of my Uncle’s outrageous fortune...I do not wish you to endure it. Nor do I wish Aristotle or Grace to witness it either. I’d prefer to keep you all separate from it. 

A report scribed in this letter about my time at Lowell should douse any need to come to Portsmith and hear it again. 

I am academically unchallenged at Lowell though I find the learning environment suitably unique. If I were in need of such seasoning as a Dominant I would find ample practice here. I spend my days reading, going into town sparsely, taking walks and doing a large amount of reflecting. On my life, on Alec, on Cassius Westbrooke’s presence here. Though surprisingly I never reflect on the future. 

To dwell on the future is too daring. Too hopeful. It invites the wayward tendencies of disaster and disappointment. I find I would rather ground myself in what is solid. Right here and right now. I realize this is counter to Lowell’s purpose for me. I should be striving for a match. I should be courting. Yet I am too content whiling my days in this manner in lieu of building any commitments or paving inroads toward them. 

My heart is split in two, you see, and neither part belongs to me. There is nothing left for anyone else. That is where I’m at. Should I find someone capable of accepting this fact and living not for romance but for companionship then I may very well free myself of these walls upon that eventuality. 

Until then, I will write you when I can. 

With love.

[sirmontgomery]

Graham read over Headmaster Westinghouse’s letter with no small degree of disappointment. He couldn’t help but feel he was now on the outside of a circle within which he thought he had membership. Of course he knew that the Headmaster Archives were real. How else should he know such a name? He had hoped to use the piece of knowledge as a bridge between them. To get him access. 

He had to acknowledge that there were certain expectations of favor he had on account of some previously held distinctions. Being a West Point graduate. Having been a Lieutenant in the Army. Being the nephew of the previous Headmaster. He was used to certain aspects of his privilege. Though he supposed there were several doors closed to him now that the word ‘former’ could be applied to all those distinctions. 

Graham hated being in the dark. He was ready for some illumination in his life. Some clarity. He tossed the letter carelessly on his desk and fixed himself a drink. Graham sipped slowly at it and gazed out the moonlit grounds outside his bedroom window. One way or another he’d get answers. Perhaps now instead of going through official channels he’d have to find other ways to obtain what he wanted. 

After all, Graham never got anywhere notable in his life by always accepting the first ‘no’ that came down the pipeline. He was no stranger to adversity and not unfamiliar with struggle. The question only remained what means he would deem acceptable to justify his ends. Truly, that seemed the question facing all at Lowell, these days. 

[sirmontgomery]

[sirmontgomery]

I clawed my way into the light but the light is just as scary. I’d rather quit. I’d rather be sad. It’s too much work.

Richard Siken, War of the Foxes (via girlinterruptedpdf)

[sirmontgomery]

First, I must open this letter with a greeting of Congratulations on the finish of your first term as Headmaster at Lowell Academy. As with all first times I am sure there were both challenges and eventual rewards. I would offer hope that there were less challenges and more rewards but that would be insincere given my belief that we develop from the challenges which harrow us. 

No doubt I have added to those challenges. Not merely because of my behavior at the Halloween Masquerade but because of who my uncle was to this school and remains to me this day. Though, I haven’t spoken to him in too long a time to enumerate here, I find myself wondering more and more about him. 

Headmaster as I am sure my birth record on file accurately reflects my date of birth you must know that today is that day. My birthdays are often simple affairs as I prefer them to pass without much pomp and ceremony. I am wondering if you too are similar in that regard. I haven’t had the opportunity to speak with you privately for great lengths of time but I feel a sort of kindred air about you that imbues our interactions with a certain endearment. 

I tell you this because my mind is heavy with thoughts of my family today. There is so much I don’t know about my Uncle’s time here. I was very busy at West Point, you see, and my main form of communication in such a controlled environment were letters. We often fail to seek news if we believe it will be the same and I failed to ask how his time here was spent. However, my Uncle did once mention to me something known as the Headmaster’s Archives. Something which I believe every Headmaster adds to ad libitum whatever it is they should desire to the historic school’s keeping. 

I write to you tonight not as a student but as a nephew. I endeavor to divine if it would be possible...for me to have a look at whatever it is my Uncle might have left behind...in hopes that it may fill a few of those missing pieces. 

Should this request not be filled, I understand. However I thank you in advance for your consideration.

Very respectfully. 

@letterstotheheadmaster​

[sirmontgomery]

Maybe your muse stumbled upon Graham (Hargrave, in the main building, out in town, at the Lux cocktail club) and he has to convince them he's not intoxicated? Open to literally anything though!

    "If I were intoxicated, which I assure you I'm not, don't you think there would be...a lot more general swaying and slurring of words?" Had he swayed when he said that? Graham was getting paranoid simply by virtue of the man's suspicion. He inhaled a slow, centering breath (something he learned from the yoga instructor here), and blinked. "I know how to handle my liquor. I've been taking care of myself now for 28 -- make that 29 -- years, as of today." His brows crunched. That sounded defensive a little defensive. Though that wasn't what he was now puzzling over. "Why worry, anyway?" he asked. Motives were everything. Especially in a school that hated him.

[sirmontgomery]

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

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

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

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.

   CASSIUS

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

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

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.”

  GRAHAM

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.

-END-

[sirmontgomery]

NOLAN GERARD FUNK

as Troy in The Catch - Season 2

[sirmontgomery]

You want a better story. Who wouldn’t?

Richard Siken, from Litany In Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out in “Crush” (via adrasteiax)

[sirmontgomery]

I’ve been rereading your story. I think it’s about me in a way that might not be flattering, but that’s okay. We dream and dream of being seen as we really are and then finally someone looks at us and sees us truly and we fail to measure up. Anyway: story received, story included. You looked at me long enough to see something mysterious under all the gruff and bluster. Thanks. Sometimes you get so close to someone you end up on the other side of them.

Richard Siken (via theglasschild)