Chapter Text
Monty sneers at him and it hurts. It’s sort of childish but after the past two months and all the time they’ve spent together, to see the other boy make that face now is painful in a way it never could have before baseball in the park. They’re at Rosy’s, his treat and damn does it feel good to be able to treat someone, but the food is long gone. They’re sitting outside where they won’t be bothered and maybe if his survival instincts were better they’d be inside in case Monty decides to try murdering him which might be where the conversation is headed.
“Just because you found some bleeding hearts to take you doesn’t mean it’ll happen for me.”
He frowns but decides not to argue that Lainie is absolutely not a bleeding heart and might be able to beat both of them up at the same time. He might, except she and Matt keep telling him to pick his battles and this is one he can skip.
“You don’t know that.” His voice is quiet, he hates it. He sounds weak and he knows Monty won’t respond to something like this and yet he can’t help it. The older boy is going to go home and there’s a fifty fifty chance as to whether he’ll come to school tomorrow for the start of the school year, not because his odds of not getting smacked around are that good but because any beat down he might get could be enough to keep him from going to school.
Predictably the other boy gets angrier. “I’m not like you.” The words come out as a hiss, angry and violent and full of loathing but whether self or directed at him, Justin can’t tell. Probably at both of them and everyone else in the world, Monty’s capacity for hate is impressive and he’s kind of proud of himself for not flinching. “People fucking like you with your pretty smile, and nice eyes and all your fucking good looks and charm. I’m not like that, there’s no one in the world who gives a fuck about me but they’d fall over themselves to wipe your ass.”
“Scott does, so do me and Bryce.”
It’s not a smart thing to say because Monty is already clenching and unclenching his fists and looks ready to blow. “Fuck you’re stupid. Scott might, fine, but he can’t do shit about this. You’re dead fucking wrong about Bryce. He doesn’t love anyone but himself and probably never has. But he’s rich and likes to polish trash so I’ll take it. You shouldn’t because I’ve hated you since the moment we met.”
He tries not to let it hurt, the obvious lie cause if Monty really hated him, why did the other boy spend so much time with him during the summer? Instead he tries again, “Does it hurt to try? If you’re right you don’t lose anything but if you’re wrong-”
Monty gets up and flips the ketchup coated tray into Justin’s lap. “Shut the fuck up Foley before I fucking kill you. You don’t know anything, you think we’re the same but we aren’t. We’re both white trash but you're trash that has a future, you always did even before all this shit. You could have made it out of this shit hole, found a college willing to take you, talked your way onto their basketball team, played professional. Even without that, people like you and you’re good at getting them to keep liking you. And I fucking hate you for it. For as hard as life’s ever been for you, I’ve always had it ten times worse because unlike you when I get laid into I don’t have three or four options to escape to, one of which is a door's always open offer to a rich kid’s house. You’re soft and weak, no one’s ever beaten you so bad you didn’t know if you were going to live because you always had someone to foot a hospital bill if you needed it. I don’t have that. People don’t like me and I don’t like them.”
Justin thinks he can feel the anger from the other boy and he’s sort of stunned into silence as Monty, apparently done with the conversation, turns on his heel and storms off.
“I thought I would die before I was thirty.” He doesn’t think before he speaks, just starts and then continues before he can lose his nerve. “I hoped I would. I didn’t want to be like them I-I wanted to die before I hurt someone like I was hurt. I figured if I did somehow make it-I’d find a way to go out that-that I could live with, or die with. I didn’t want to OD on something and prove everyone right but I wasn’t sure I could use a gun or knife. I thought maybe I’d go down by the water and just swim until I couldn't anymore.”
Monty’s stopped walking but hasn’t turned around. He’ll take it.
“I think you’re the same. You try so hard to convince everyone you’re mean and that you hate everyone and everything and that you aren’t afraid of anything and maybe that’s all true but it isn’t the whole truth. I think you’d rather die before you become like your old man and that’s enough to tell me you won’t be. I don’t want to die young, and I don’t want you to either. I want you to get out of here, to see what life is like when you’re not worried about going home, or where your next meal comes from, or keeping up an image. I wanted to be your friend from the beginning and I know you hated me and for a while I hated you too but I don’t anymore so please let me try to help.”
Nothing for a few seconds but he needs to catch his breath. It feels like he’s poured everything he is into saying all of that and honestly he feels drained after doing so.
“Fuck you Foley, say shit like that again and I’ll send you home to mommy and daddy in a body bag.” His voice sounds odd and Justin wonders if he’s imagining the way Monty’s voice catches or if it’s just him but the threat sounds more desperate than it should.
In any case, Monty doesn’t turn around to look at Justin but walks away. It stings, he sort of falls onto the bench, not caring that he now has ketchup all over his butt because it’s all across the front of him anyway. He feels...a lot of things, exhausted, let down, disappointed, maybe even angry. He thought-in the movies this sort of thing always works, pouring your heart and soul into something and no matter how long the shot is, everything will work out. He meant it all too, every last stupid word of it. All summer he’s spent every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon with Monty and usually another random day of the week. During that time, it’s confirmed what he’s suspected about Monty since that first day at Bryce’s party three years ago. Monty isn’t as cold as he wants to pretend he is, under the facade he puts up is a normal person, someone with dreams and wants, he can be funny is a sarcastic sort of way. Conversation between them is still awkward sometimes, but not always. In fact, they’re closer than they’ve ever been and it’s not hard considering how far apart they started but he was so sure they were making some kind of progress, and maybe they were, maybe he just jumped the gun and tried to push too early.
He realizes he’s crying and he isn’t totally sure why. He’d like to say it’s anger at himself for being dumb enough to think Monty could be anymore than the monster he’s seemed for years but that’s a lie and he knows it. Despite what just happened, he can’t bring himself to believe Monty is anything like his dad, he’s sure that he’s right and that means the tears are frustration which seems so much worse.
No matter what Monty says or does, he’ll always remember the boy from the party, bruised but not broken with the wild eyes and burning temper so hot, Justin thought he might catch on fire. Monty had hated him from the moment they met, the first words he ever said to Justin were an angry, cursed laced tirade about Justin being gay for looking at him so much. When Justin had tried to explain himself, tried to tell Monty they were the same and should be friends, it had taken Jeff, Scott, and Willem to pull Monty off of him.
He’s spaced out when he realizes someone’s in front of him.
“You look like Jess just broke up with you or Clay told you to never come home again.”
Tony. He looks up and the older boy offers a napkin, he realizes he’s been crying and wipes the tears away angrily, or as angrily as he can. He’s happy Tony doesn't comment on the abundant ketchup stains, less happy when he pushes, gentle as it is.
“Want to talk about it?”
He shakes his head cause he absolutely doesn’t want to, he wants to sit and not think about anything until he has to go home and then invent something to tell Matt and Lainie to explain why he looks like he lost a fight with a ketchup bottle.
Tony of course takes a seat across from him and Justin almost groans, not in the mood for company and ready for the older boy to start a game of twenty questions but he should have known better. They sit in silence and it isn’t even awkward, well not too much until he finally ends up saying, “I just-I’ve been trying to help someone but no matter what I do it isn’t working.”
“And now you’re feeling discouraged?”
All he can manage is a miserable nod.
“I get from the way you're taking this it isn’t just a simple favor or something easy, you’re trying to do something big aren’t you?”
Another nod, and even that’s exhausting. The last of the adrenaline is wearing off and now he just feels empty, hollow maybe.
“Does it have something to do with Monty?”
His head snaps up, eyes wide, and mouth opens to say something but no words come out.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. I don’t know what you want from him exactly but I think I have a pretty good guess. I’m not sure how smart it is but I don’t think there’s any way for me to talk you out of it and I don’t really want to.” Tony pauses for a second and offers a tight smile, his own jaw has hit the floor. “You need to do this, I can tell. If you don’t you won’t forgive yourself for not trying hard enough even if you have and you’ll always wonder if you could have changed something or done something different somehow.”
He blushes, he doesn’t want to say Tony is right, but if he isn’t then what reason does he have to feel this way?
“Remember Clay spent months trying to help you. Sure you didn’t fight him like Monty’s fighting you now but you didn’t exactly help him either.”
“So you’re telling me to wait?”
Tony doesn’t reply right away, instead he adopts a thoughtful look and seems to consider what he’s about to say before finally replying. “No, I’m telling you to be safe, call me if you need me, and keep trying. I can’t figure out why you would want to help Monty, that boy is trouble, but I know that look on your face and no matter what I say you’re going to see this through to whatever end comes of it so I might as well offer whatever help I can. Now, want a ride home?” Tony dangles his keys and he follows the older boy to his car.
The ride is silent for the first part until Justin finally says, “He could be me.”
Tony hums.
“I’m serious. His dad’s no worse than my mom’s boyfriends. If I-I could have been him. Angry and mean and alone.”
Another hum.
“It wouldn’t have taken much. I mean some days I already was and I bullied Clay and a lot of other people already, all I’m missing is the short fuse.”
Silence this time and then, “You could have but you aren’t.”
“You’re right, I’m not but that’s cause I had people, Bryce and then later Zach and the guys, now I have the Jensens and you and Jess too. Monty doesn’t have anyone but-but maybe it isn’t too late. I thought if I could-I don’t know I guess it sounds stupid but I thought if I could be the person for him that all of you are for me maybe I could help him.”
“And do you still think that?”
He hesitates for a moment but then says, “Yes.”
Tony nods and he gets the feeling he answered something right. “Then keep trying, if Monty is like what you think then he’ll come around, just don’t give up.”
They pull up in front of the Jensens’ and Justin gets out pausing for a moment and saying quietly, “Thanks Tony.”
The older boy gives him a small smile and replies, “Anytime Justin.”
He heads in feeling his resolve return. He can do this, he won’t be another person who fails Monty because helping him is hard.