Chapter Text
“...Do you hate me?” Will asks in a hushed tone.
“I wish I could.” Montresor says flatly. As soon as the words leave his mouth, he wishes he hadn’t said them. He wishes he hadn’t engaged in this ridiculous conversation in the first place. That he hadn’t ever come out of his room, ever gone back for Will, ever left home. He wishes he could be anyone else but himself.
* * *
Will winces. “Oh.”
Neither of them move, Will frozen by hurt, Montresor by guilt disguised as stubbornness. The tension hangs thick in the air, sticking in Montresor’s nose and eyes, clogging his throat like Church incense. He needs to get out, he needs fresh air. He strides forward, past Will, accidentally bumping his shoulder in the attempt to escape. The contact almost burns as Montresor walks numbly down the corridor, eventually finding himself outside, in the courtyard (or other outside location idk). A breeze ruffles his hair and brings the dead leaves of perpetual autumn scraping across the dirt. Montresor breathes in deeply, clearing his lungs and mind. The relative peace is interrupted by an infuriatingly penetrating voice.
“So, you have been hiding something. Wouldn’t have pinned you as the type for relationship drama.”
Montresor whips around angrily, “Were you eavesdroppin’ ?”
Lenore raises her hands nonchalantly. “No! I overheard on accident—honestly.”
“Yeah, right. And I’m a pious man,” he scoffs. “How much did ya hear?”
“Enough. You going to tell Ada?”
“Oh, sure, and then you can tell your crew all about your rompin’ around with Annabel Lee.”
“Touché,” she says lightly.
Montresor walks over to a nearby bench and sits down. To his annoyance, Lenore follows, hovering a few feet behind him and resting her forearms against the back of the bench. She stays there and says nothing, but Montresor swears he can feel her eyes boring into the back of his head. He sighs, exhausted. After everything, he can’t find the energy to argue, for once. Lenore’s company is strangely tolerable, almost comforting, after days of isolation. Montresor turns to face her. "What d'you want? You got me, I ain’t so smug, big surprise.”
“Well, it’s like I said: If something happens, none of us can afford to be distracted,” she replies. “And I suppose I do feel for your situation.”
“Sounds like a distraction.”
“No, I just think Will deserves better but he’ll never realize it.” Lenore pauses, continuing thoughtfully. “And…I don’t know. I guess I see some of myself in you, in a twisted sort of way. Maybe you were right—we are similar.”
Montresor laughs. “Bullshit, I was just tryin’ to rile ya up. Don’t act like you know me.”
“Oh, but I think I do. I used to be like you. You grew up ‘troubled,’ or at least that’s what everyone else called you. And no matter how hard you tried, you proved them right . Maybe you were just crazy, or maybe it was the devil himself! But you were, are, and always will be troubled , so eventually it was easier to stop trying to be anything else. And then, eventually, you died. ‘Far too young, a tragedy, but unsurprising’ for a troubled, young soul like yourself. Or at least that’s how the story goes when your family brings you up. But the difference between you and I, Montresor, is that I got out. I chose to get better.”
“D’you think I don’t already know all that? I don’t need yer pity or yer monologues,” Montresor sneers.
“Oh, I’m aware. But I think you should know that you’re not special in that regard. I think you’re too cowardly to change, and too proud to admit when you’re wrong.”
“Mighty fine observation, Calamity Jane. But Lord knows it’s too late for me.”
“People can change, even dead people. Talk to Will.”
Montresor snorts. “Yeah ‘cause that went well the last three times. Will don’t deserve someone like me.”
“You’re right. He doesn’t. But none of us deserved the things that happened to us in life, either. Not even you. That’s why we’re all here. That’s why we’re all similar. Troubled young people. Let yourself be happy now, at least.”
“Or maybe we’re all liars, thieves, and outlaws. Will and I—listen. God knows I ain’t no saint, and I don’t need a reason for Him to send me down below any sooner.”
“I thought you implied you weren’t a pious man.”
“Maybe I just don’t wanna take chances.”
“Then it’s a good thing God can’t see us here.”
Montresor doesn’t respond, the wind suddenly picking up and whistling through the trees. The clouds overhead have turned dark, turning the environment even dimmer along with the setting sun. Lightning cracks, and an ominous figure seems to appear out of thin air at the treeline in the distance. Sharp antlers, matted fur, piercing red eyes. Montresor starts. “What the hell, it’s back?”
“I don’t think it ever left,” Lenore says darkly, heaving Montresor up off the bench by his arm. As the two of them begin running back to the school, a bloodcurdling howl punctures the air: the hunt is on. Heavy sounds of hooves echo from behind. As Lenore wrenches the hefty wooden door open, Montresor glances behind them to see the stag and its hounds charging towards the school, already far closer than they should be in the mere seconds since they appeared. A stony sense of doom settles in Montresor’s stomach, making his blood run cold.
“ Come on!” Lenore yells, and Montresor follows, sprinting through the corridors after her. He hears the sound of splintering wood as the door is practically ripped off its hinges, and the hounds’ claws scrambling against the hard floors as they pursue their prey. Suddenly, Montresor feels someone grab tightly onto his arm, as Lenore pulls him into a narrow side-corridor. They hold their breath. Montresor’s heart beats so fast he fears he will pass out, adrenaline making him additionally woozy. A sharp pain jumps in his hand, grasped tightly around the sharp corners of his crucifix. He releases the pendant, leaving indents on his palm.
A few yards away, in the main corridor, the stag and the hounds stop for several agonizing seconds, searching, before continuing on to find a new quarry.
“How lucky are we?” Lenore mutters, clutching her chest.
Before Montresor can respond, a horrible cry echoes from a nearby corridor, followed by barking and snarling and snapping of jaws, “ No!” The voice is panicked, and all-too-familiar. Montresor’s stomach drops. He turns to head towards the direction of the noise, but Lenore stops him with an iron grip on his wrist.
“ Don’t even think about it ,” she whispers sharply. “ It’s suicide .”
Montresor doesn’t even seem to hear her as he rips his arm from her grasp and dashes out of the narrow corridor. He finds the source of the commotion in a nearby lecture hall. Will is backed up against the far wall, surrounded by hounds, the stag looming over him, and looking more frightened than Montresor has ever seen him.
“ Will! ”
“ M-Monty? What are you doing ? ”
“What the devil are you thinking!?” Lenore shouts, close behind.
“I ain’t leavin’ him.”
Lenore curses under her breath. “Fine.”