#13rws3

Dressed in dirty, ragged jeans and an old plaid flannel, complete with a duffel bag and several bruises adorning his body, Monty de la Cruz had never felt so out of place in this world. He stood amongst a swarm of Hillcrest's finest students, a red cup in everyone's hand and music blasting as the sun began to set. There's a huge pool, girls in bikinis and guys half naked, grinning and flirting and having the best time. And all Monty can think about, is how he seems to be staining the happy picture.

But he's been looking for Bryce.

His Dad had come home drunk- a typical weekend at the de la Cruz's, and had immediately started a rampage, first at Monty's mother, and then eventually him. Monty could usually just take some hits before the man passed out but tonight, he'd just kept waling on the boy with any and every object he could find. And Monty decided he needed to leave for the night... or at least a couple nights.

Bryce usually let him stay over when things like that happened. But now, the boy always seemed to be ignoring his calls.

A group of bitches pass him, obviously drunk but they still screw up their noses at him and scoff. He turns around and tightens his jaw, fist clenching hard as he begins to panic. He's not getting help anymore, Bryce cut him off- the bastard. He had nowhere to go and barely enough money for two nights at a motel. Jesus fuck how was he gonna-

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

He rounds on the person who'd spoken and immediately pauses, mouth hanging slightly open.

It was Winston, the boy he'd messed with a couple times.

His defense mechanisms come up. "What does it look like I'm doing here, Williams?"

The boy raises a perfectly groomed brow and gestures at Monty's duffel bag with his half-filled cup.

"Definitely not having a good time. You headed somewhere? And why are you bleeding?"

Monty frowns and touches his face where Winston had pointed out. His fingers come away from his right temple with dark blood. He wipes it off and shakes his head, casually.

"Its nothin', alright?"

Winston seems unimpressed. "Sure."

Monty screws up his face and rolls his eyes. "Look, whatever man, you seen Bryce?"

Winston instantly looks displeased, his grey green eyes assessing Monty seriously.

"Bryce? Why're you looking for him?"

"None of your business Williams. Have you seen him or not?"

"No." Winston finally answers, drinking down the last of his alcohol. One of his friends come up to them and gives Monty a scornful look.

"Dude c'mon, Jax is here."

"Yeah in a minute Red."

The corner of Monty's mouth twitches, and he snorts. "Jax?"

Winston nods. "He's sort of an Alpha male around here. One of them anyway."

"And what, you're his bitch?"

"No." Winston answers with a smile. "But he's interested."

Monty scoffs, his bag still swung over his shoulder. He doesn't know why that thought irritates him so much, but it does. Who the fuck was this Jax? Why the fuck was he interested in Winston? Why the fuck was Winston putting himself out there for some other guy? A voice in his head reminds him that he's not with the boy or whatever. And that he needs to calm down.

"I gotta get outta here." He grunts instead, pushing past Winston to leave.

"Hey- wait..." The raven-haired boy calls, hastening after him, tossing the cup into a trash bin on the way. Monty keeps walking.

"Hey," he calls, hand gripping the boy's shoulder so fast that Monty rounds on him with a growl, causing him to freeze. He holds both hands up, assuming a much less threatening stance.

"I'm sorry."

Monty barely looks affronted by his actions however. He just seems incredibly uncomfortable and desperate.

"Whatever."

Winston shakes his head. "No, look- ...do you... d'you wanna go back to my place? Y'know, to chill? I- you- you can stay with me until Bryce shows up I guess?"

There's a subtle change in Monty's expression that almost makes Winston hopeful. The hardened lines of tension on his face gradually soften into something much more calm and his eyes don't have as much heat in them. Now, he just looks tired. Exhausted. And beat into the ground like some discarded piece of garbage that had been rolled over by several cars on a highway.

A couple minutes later, Winston makes good on his offer and takes Monty back to his house. His parents were gone, as usual and he had the entire place to himself. He's grateful and he can tell that Monty is too, the way he just sinks into Winston's bed, clothes and shoes still on. His eyes flutter shut for a minute as Winston shuffles about here and there, doing random things in particular.

The next time Monty comes to, it's still night, but Winston's in different clothing and he himself, is dressed in nothing but his boxers. He frowns, nearly shooting off the bed in apt confusion.

"The hell...?" He mutters, yawning while he frowns at the unfamiliar surroundings.

"Hey," Winston greets, causing Monty to nearly lose his shit.

"The fuck- Jesus man, scared the crap outta me."

A genuine flicker of worry flashes across Winston's face for a moment before he offers the Latinx an uneasy smile.

"I made dinner."

"Dinner? Damn, how long was I out?" Monty groans, stretching lazily like a house cat.

Winston gives him a funny look and swallows hard before speaking. "Monty, you've been out for a day."

The brunette glares at him but his eyes become unfocused. He looks more scared than angry and that irks Winston.

"What? What d'you mean a whole day?"

Winston shrugs from the doorway, arms crossed. "I mean, you've been at my house since Saturday night. It's Sunday now."

Monty looks over to the alarm clock on the nightstand and frowns as the red, glowing, 8:46PM glares back at him. A feeling of dread snakes down his stomach and he buries his head in his hands, perched on the edge of the bed like some kind of worrying statue. Winston approaches him gingerly, moving to eventually stand between the boy's legs, gazing down at him sadly.

"Before you passed out, you told me that... you needed some painkillers. And I asked you if they were for the bruises. And you said maybe. So I gave you two, and then you asked for more. Said that you wanted to OD... then you passed out."

Monty's fingers don't lose their punishing grip on his hair. He keeps pulling until Winston's gentler hands remove them, replacing them on his hips instead. He feels the boy's grip tighten, his nails digging into soft flesh- hisses but doesn't remove the boy's hands. Instead, he cards his own fingers through Monty's short hair, soothing the disturbed strands, petting the boy easily.

"My Dad was on a rampage Saturday. One of his usual, drunken terror-tantrums. Came after me with a hammer, I didn't have a choice. Grabbed some clothes and cash and got the hell outta dodge."

Winston tries his best to conceal the horrified look in his eyes but he can't seem to bring himself to it.

"That's why you were looking for Bryce. You were looking for a place to crash." He surmises instead, heart breaking as Monty buries his face in his stomach, holding on for dear life.

"He used to let me stay in his Grandfather's lakehouse just behind the main mansion... guess he cut me off."

"Why?" Winston asks out of genuine curiosity.

Monty scoffs, voice muffled by the boy's t-shirt.

"Cos I'm a monster."

Winston screws up his face in abject confusion. "According to Bryce... who was charged for raping multiple girls..."

"He's seriously trying to change y'know." Monty mutters defensively, not even sure why he's still protective of Bryce's image. He guessed it was the desperate boy still inside of him; still afraid to lose it all. Afraid that if he didn't have all the help he got from his friendship with Bryce, he would surely fall into ruin at the merciless hands of his father and eventually end up in jail or dead.

"Okay. But what makes you a monster?" Winston urges, his soft voice oddly calming.

Monty closes his eyes and shakes his head. "I've done things, Winston."

"What kind of things?"

"Terrible things. I'm the typical mean jock at every high school and no matter how much I try to be a good person... things- ...things never seem to work out that way. I can never change. As long as I'm trapped in that house with my Dad, I know it's only a matter of time before I turn out to be just like him."

He's sobbing by the time he's finished, tears soaking into Winston's shirt. The boy just holds him tighter, whispering sweet nothings in his ear, telling him that it would all be okay and that he was there.

"There's good in everybody. Trust me." He murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of the brunette's head.

"Not me... how can you even say that? After what I did to you at that party-"

"You were in a bad place then. I don't hold it against you. I would never do that."

"Why?" Monty demands through gritted teeth and he's finally staring straight into Winston's eyes this time.

Winston frowns for a second. "Why wouldn't I hold it against you?"

"No- why d'you care? Why d'you even give a shit about my sorry ass?"

The boy thinks hard for a moment, biting his lower lip before grinning slightly. "It's a nice ass."

The amused snort from Monty seems to be in complete contrast to the tears streaming down his face but it doesn't seem weird. It looks... right.

"You're an idiot, Winston Williams."

Winston grins cheekily down at the boy before growing somber again.

"But I'm your idiot, right?"

Hazel eyes glisten up at him, carrying the emotion of a thousand heartbeats as Monty nods shakily, unused to such tenderness.

"Yeah of course. Mine."

The raven-haired boy can't help the stupid giggle that bubbles from his throat as he lowers himself to press a gentle kiss to Monty's bruised lips. The brunette closes his eyes and sighs into the liplock, giving himself a break as all the tension releases from his body. The gash splitting his brow didn't even bother him that much anymore.

"And what am I?" He asks the boy, just out of curiosity, because his restless heart and soul could never truly be sure of what was affection from tolerance. "To you?"

Winston considers him for a moment, that endearing smile still on his face as his eyes sparkle. He settles in bed, with Monty curled up against him, head on his chest, idle fingers playing with his t-shirt.

"You're-" He starts but then pauses when those hauntingly beautiful eyes blink up at him, hopeful. Then he smiles and kisses Monty on the forehead.