Week 28 - Monty's Past Life Interlude - 1.2 - 1058 words
“What reason do you think I would imagine for you would not attending this party? Aside from your complete distaste for social functions and that I could have sworn you were already living in the western territory?”
Monty, confident that Oisean was steady on his feet, returned to the miniature bar display that sat by the window. His hands glossed over the different bottles as he tried to decide which poison to pick. He poured a stiff drink for the other man. Taking a quick glance around the room, he found Oisean sitting on a stuffed couch, licking his wounds in at least a metaphorical sense.
“I suppose I can’t blame you for thinking that I had already moved on. I am heading that way, at the end of this week, but I was brought up here to enjoy a celebration first.”
He held out his hand with the drinking vessel in hand and waited until Oisean’s fingers were wrapped firmly. Their skin touched in a brief moment of heat. Monty tried to ignore the feeling. Even as he seated himself beside Oisean on the couch and found that the material also held heat.
Taking a few sips first, likely to steady his nerves, Oisean soon said, “Yes, I suppose you can’t blame me. Especially not when you sent off the trunks with the remainder of your belongings nearly two weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry that I didn’t come for them myself, my dear, but I did not imagine that you would want me around. Not with the goodbye that you initially gave to me when I tried to exit your home.”
Oisean shifted in his seat, slowly moving so he could lean his head against Monty’s shoulder. A few months ago…
Well, a few months ago, Monty would not have been able to sit in the same room as Oisean. Much less let the man lay against him. No matter if it had been an attempt to keep from dying of the cold out in the wilderness. He would have willing let the young diplomat slowly freeze in the elements rather than allow themselves to touch once more.
“I’m so sorry, Monty. I should have taken much more care.”
A sudden dampness began to form on Monty’s coat sleeve. Right in the position of his former companions resting forehead. He allowed himself to gently raise Oisean by his chin and kiss the wrinkled forehead.
“It’s alright, my dear.”
“It’s not alright. I shouldn’t have treated you in such a way. Any of the ways in which I did anything to you.”
It wasn’t alright.
Of course that was a detail of which he was aware. It was not alright to watch your partner slowly lose interest in you because he has become distracted by his work. The offer of being a diplomat was promised as an opportunity to proceed both of their careers, but now it had led to Monty having to start over entirely.
“I know why you did those things to me, Oisean. You wince away at me as if you hurt me physically.”
“I did hurt you. I know - you know - not physically. The hurt I gave you was so much more worse.”
To Monty, that was the worst part of the entire debacle. It wasn’t that his partner had given up his attention on the basis of a more attractive person. Before this moment, he didn’t believe that Oisean could understand that mental trauma could be far much worse than any physical strike upon the body. These were matters more left to the big thinkers. And Oisean had rarely been accused of being a philosopher.
“It will all be alright now, my dear. You won’t have to worry anymore about the hurt once this weekend is over,” Monty soothed, fingers moving in a clean stroke from Oisean’s temple and down through to his lower back. The other man relaxed under his touches. He felt the other weight pushing him into their shared couch and he was surprised as he allowed it to happen.
Though he hadn’t missed much from their time away from each other, this was a welcome return. Their were nestled together in their historical positions. If this event had taken place in bed, then Monty would have likely found himself in his usual upper position. All while delivering a package that had been lost in the postal service for several months now.
They weren’t at that point in time though. No bed was in sight. Only the haggard rise and fall of Oisean’s chest as his choked up sobs continued to soak through Monty’s clothing. He let the silence do half of the work of the soothing as his hands began to stiffen.
What were the appropriate words to say to a former lover who has found themselves back in your hands? It was not an answer that Monty could ponder on. Before this relationship, he had rarely felt the same man’s body under him more than once. Mr. Magill, his father, had not been a man built for relationships, and Monty had found himself to be one in a similar position.
Out of the silence, Oisean suddenly spoke, asking, “What if I don’t want to stop worrying? What if I want to keep worrying about you?”
Monty shifted himself upwards so that they were meeting eye to eye. This position left them with the other man straddling him as if he had mounted into a side saddle. To be far too polite about the whole matter, it meant that certain things were rubbing against each other.
He lifted up his hand once more to stroke Oisean’s hair, but drew it back in surprise when the other man recoiled. Instead, with his lips, he pressed another gentle kiss on the man’s increasingly creased forehead. This time, he whispered, “You shouldn’t be saying things like that when you’re not in your right mind.”
“Montgomery-”
Oisean paused after calling out his name. It was an unspoken trust between them that Monty’s real name would be only named in the most serious of instances. The voice that had called that name was nothing like the man who had sat idly on the couch while he removed himself from their lodgings.
Perhaps something had changed, but Monty couldn’t base his entire future on senseless ponderings.
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