Closed Bottoms Up!

Monty Pendleton

💡 Inventor | Guardian 💡
 
Messages
10,413
OOC First Name
Claire
Blood Status
Muggleborn
Relationship Status
Single
Sexual Orientation
Asexual
Wand
Straight 9 1/2 Inch Rigid Walnut Wand with Thestral Tail Hair Core
Age
1/1999 (61)
"No, no no no, no, I mean... balls. Eyeballs. Puffer-fish eyeballs!" Monty said, clicking his fingers. He wasn't sure what he was drinking any more - only that it had been in the back of Arvo's cupboard for some time and tasted strongly alcoholic. He took another sip and put his glass down, wisely, on the coffee table. "I can't remember what I was talking about. What was I talking about? Oh, never mind." Suddenly he leaned back on the sofa and frowned. "What's actually, actually in that, Arvo? What've I been drinking?"

Absolutely definitely set in the holidays okay
 
Arvo frowned and shook his head, his little legs struggling to kick him back up from almost falling backwards. "No, no Monty, My Boy, that's not how it goes at all!" He squeaked, huffing lightly as he threw the rest of his glass back. Arvo had always been a strong drinker since he was the ripe young age of about twenty five, of course he didn't talk much about that since he wasn't twenty five anymore and hadn't been for a very, very long time. Pufferfish eyeballs, really? That was awful. He struggled to watch where Monty's glass was moving to and the leaned forward heavily to stare at the bottle, squinting his eyes to try and see it. "That's a very good question, actually," he said, frowning. He vaguely recalled picking it up sometime in '87, but beyond that... "I'm sure it's nothing you can't whip up a cure for with your Potions skills, Monty, I trust you with my life!" He said, holding his glass to his dear friend in something of a salute. It was probably a good thing Kata was away for the week, she'd definitely kill him.
 
Monty fought for several seconds longer to remember why on earth he'd been talking about puffer-fish eyeballs, and then gave up entirely. "I'm not... I'm not going anywhere near an open flame like this," he said wearily. Then he snorted. "I don't trust you. D'you remember, d'you remember, the first time we did this? Wait, we said we weren't going to talk about that. Did we say that? We must have." He picked up the bottle, attempted to read the label, and then decided to save time and just refill their glasses. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "I love you. No, I do. You're my best friend. You should... look after yourself. Not drink, or something."
 
"Excuse me, My Dear Boy, I'd never allow you to catch fire, what do you take me for?" He asked, immediately looking about for the wand he'd misplaced earlier this evening. Still, he was sure he could put Monty out if needed. It was only a fire, after all. "Any way, any way its not needed, I'm sure it's going to be fine." He added, nodding resolutely. He would never intentionally poison his friend, of course not, not intentionally. Accidentally though, maybe. "No, nononononono, Monty you must be quiet about that, remember what we said, remember you have to be quiet about that, Kata will kill us both and you know she could do it." He whispered, comically lowering his voice to an octave that wasn't all that quiet at all. He held his glass for Monty to pour more and quickly knocked it back as well, slamming his glass a little harder than he meant to on the table. "Oh, don't you start with me, I hear enough of that as it is from my wife, are you applying for the position now?"
 
Monty wasn't convinced the evening would end well. Or rather, he wasn't convinced the next morning would begin well. He couldn't handle his alcohol like Arvo, who had seemingly built up a tolerance over the many decades of his life. Come to think of it, Monty didn't even know how old he was. "I wrote a letter," he said, slurring his words. "To Kata. After that evening. I said, 'I'm very sorry for what I did, really, so sorry, if I can do anything to make it up to you, just le'me know.' But, see, here's the thing," he said, raising a finger in case Arvo tried to interrupt. "I can't remember why she kicked us out. I don't know what I did." He laughed, though it wasn't that funny. He still felt a twinge of guilt whenever he thought about it. "Maybe she - she's got'a point," he suggested, hiding his smirk behind his glass. "You are very, very, very old."
 
"Ah, yes I -" he raised an eyebrow when he was quietened by Monty only to listen as he tried to explain the abysmally poor letter he'd attempted to write to his wife, Kata, and she'd not appreciated it at all, so naturally, Arvo had framed it and hung it up in their bedroom, but he wouldn't tell Monty that. "Well, I can't say I remember exactly, but... no, no it's better to go unsaid, yes, I think that shall stay deeply buried inside my head until the day I die, thank you very much." Arvo said, heaving himself off of the seat very heavily and stumbling slightly to try and stand. He turned to Monty then, bracing himself against the coffee table, as he was very small, and pointed a slightly shaking finger at the much younger man. "Excuse me, I should have you know that I may be old, but you're not forty yourself anymore, Monty AND also for your knowledge I am still perfectly capable of kicking your behind in good old fashioned duel! I was a wonderful student many, many, many years ago and I still know it all!"
 
Monty sighed, resigning himself to the fact he would never know what he did that night which was so terrible Kata had made him and Arvo sleep in an inn. Perhaps it really was for the best. He watched the tiny old man with a mixture of entertainment and concern as he struggled to stand up. "No. No, no," Monty said. "I'm not duelling you. I'll break something, and then Kata will send me a howler. But jus' so you know, if we did duel, the only behind that would get kicked is... yours. Now, please sit down. You don't threaten me, you know. I could use you as a footstool." He set his glass down again, determined not to drink any more. Duels. Duels, duels, duels. He'd duelled Hezekiah. No. He wasn't thinking about Hezekiah tonight. That was the plan. Then again, he'd also planned to take himself home this evening, and that certainly wasn't going to happen, so maybe to hell with plans. He sighed again and looked at the carpet. He was supposed to be having fun, and he wasn't. That made him a bad guest. Why couldn't he do anything right?
 
"A foot-, a footstool? A footstool?!" The tiny ex professor exclaimed, his face falling into a picture or shock and horror at the thought. "How dare you, I am at least three inches taller than a footstool!" he said, his face going slightly red at the thought and the alcohol, perhaps he'd had a bit more than he should have. He started cackling then, moving slowly to pour himself another drink, he liked drinking so that was what he was going to do, that was what Monty had come here for. "Now, Monty, My Boy, what-" he stopped then, squinting a bit to get a good look up at this dearest friend, who, at the moment, did not look at all as if he was in the company of his best friend, he looked, in fact, positively depressing and Arvo was not having it, no sir he was not. "Oh, no, Dear Boy, whatever it is, you must stop the thoughts immediately! If you wish to truly make me a footstool I'll not stop you, I very much doubt I really could any way, I head about that business with the Matthias person or other after all, you really would kick my behind in a duel!" He said, his alcohol addled mind not really putting together any of the signs. "It can't possibly be that bad, nothing's happened to Savelli or the kids right?" He asked, suddenly horrified at the thought he'd gotten his friend very drunk when he'd come over here to tell him some terrible news.
 
Despite himself, Monty chuckled. Arvo could always make him laugh, even when everything else was going wrong. It didn't take the part-goblin long to notice Monty's shift in mood and become concerned. He had a unique way of showing his concern, which was to effectively tell him to stop being sad, but Monty knew that was just his way of trying to lighten the mood. "To be fair, I nearly died," he said. Sometimes he still dreamt about the flash of green light. Zannon had tried to use the killing curse on him; he'd barely dived out of the way. Monty shook his head. No. Thankfully, it had nothing to do with his family. "They're fine. They're fine," he said, waving a limp hand. "It's me. I'm just... I'm so..." Useless wasn't the right word, but it was close. "Lonely," he finished, surprising himself. "I'm so lonely. And no-one's ever going to love me, Arvo. Well, Hezekiah - I s'pose Hezekiah does. He likes me. But I'm not gay. That's the thing. I wish I was gay. M'asexual. And he's a b****ard, anyway." Monty looked as if he might start crying. "I can't - I can't stand him. So why do I like him? You're clever. You know everything. You tell me."
 
Arvo was not in the right mind to be trying to give Monty advice, honestly he was not. Problem was, drunk Arvo, such as he was, was really not in the right mind for him to know that either. As he listened to Monty ramble on about, well, Arvo wasn't at all sure what he seemed to be upset about. The kids were fine, apparently but he was lonely. Well, he had Arvo, so he wasn't sure that was a problem either, except he kept on. Arvo's already deep set frown only continued to develop as more and more of this unknown information came out of his friends mouth, but none of it, none of it made any sense to the tiny man at all. It was clearly upsetting him though. "Well, Monty, I-... what?" There was just something about what he'd just said that Arvo wasn't hearing. "I'm so sorry, My Boy, could you please go on again?"
 
Monty could tell, just about, that he wasn't making any sense. He'd never mentioned Hezekiah to Arvo before, nor his sexuality, nor any of this. If he hadn't been so drunk, he probably still wouldn't have. He rubbed his face, struggling to find the words to explain himself more clearly. "I'm asexual," he said. "You know. I don't want to... to sleep with anyone. Women or men. I just don't. There's nothing there. I don't feel it." The frustration was clear in his voice. "I never used to care. I never used to care! I like being on my own. Haven't I said that, haven't I? But then this thing happens. It's like... like Ava. I thought I loved her - I do love her - but then, then, then I don't feel anything." He leaned forward and poured himself another drink, forgetting his resolution. "And then I met Hezekiah," he said, with a tinge of venom. "I thought, Oh, maybe I'm gay! And, you know, I was scared, 'cause I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know what that meant. But then, then I find out I'm not gay, and I'm actually disappointed!" The tears he'd managed to contain in his eyes finally slipped over. "S'just romantic attraction, or some b****cks like that. So'm going to be alone. Forever. But - doesn't matter. I don't even like him. I mean, he's good to me, but he's still a b****ard. Sorry. I'm so sorry. I should just go home..."
 
Arvo was too drunk for this, really he was. Whatever had possessed either of them to do this, they had traversed the expected, slipped into the hilarious and then quickly devolved into the depressing. Arvo slowly lowered his glass and moved to place it on the coffee table. He stepped slowly closer to Monty until he had come mostly eye to eye and then just simply listened. Arvo had lived a long life and one thing he had learned in all his time in this life, was that sometimes listening was just as helpful as advice and if Arvo was one thing above all else, he was a good listener. He always had to be given his life had always be wrought with trouble and danger. Arvo was, shocked wasn't the right word. He'd always known there was something a bit different about Monty, not just because of the fact that he'd never been in a relationship as long as Arvo had known him, but just that there were so many aspects of his life, of his childhood, the even Arvo didn't know. And at first he had thought that the things he'd seen in Monty had been related to childhood trauma, but now? This made a lot of sense, more sense than Arvo thought it would, if he were honest. Suddenly, Arvo sighed and nodded. His friend was hurting, he was trying to figure himself out and he was checking and rechecking himself to find out what had gone wrong. Of course he was, you didn't find out something about yourself and then not wonder where it had come from. It was typical, Arvo had gone through it too many years ago, granted it had not be quite such as it was for his young friend, but everyone had their own struggles, it just happened that Monty seemed to have more than most and Arvo wanted desperately to say the right thing and let him know that there was nothing wrong and that he was still the same person that he'd always been and that this wasn't the end of anything. He wanted to say all of it. Arvo stumbled slowly closer to his friend and placed a heavy hand on the mans shoulder. “Monty, I hear you. I will always listen.” It wasn’t much, but, for now, he hoped it was enough.
 
Monty wasn't sure how he'd gone from laughing to crying in a matter of minutes, but he knew that he did want to cry. He wasn't supposed to bottle his feelings up. That was what his therapist had told him, in words to the effect, and he was trying to follow her advice. It wasn't always easy. He had no idea how Arvo was going to react. The old man had never been the sort to sugar-coat things, which Monty had come to appreciate, but he was also a firm believer in tough love, which Monty did not appreciate at all. He didn't want to be told to pull himself together. He certainly didn't want to be told everything was OK. He just wanted to feel... accepted.

And somehow, in eight words, Arvo achieved precisely that. Monty made a choked sound, but he was too drunk to do any more crying. After a moment he said, "Please can I stay? I don't want to go home." He'd slept on Arvo's sofa before, but he still felt like he was intruding. "If - if it's OK."
 
Arvo nodded at Monty, relieved he seemed to have brought his friend some comfort at least. This was not a conversation they should be having this deep in the alcohol, but he wasn't about to throw the information away. He would keep it for later, for whenever Monty felt right to tell him everything because he felt there might have been more. He'd said a lot of course, but they were both drunk and Arvo had missed a little of it whilst he was trying to keep himself standing. But he'd had the gist. He nodded to Monty and patted his shoulder once, twice, before stepping back. "Of course! You are welcome here always, Monty, whatever you need, whenever you need it." For as long as he could provide.
 
Monty really didn't know what he would do without Arvo. No one else in the world made him feel so secure, so understood. "Thank you," he said, and winced. His head was already pounding, but he didn't have the energy to think about brewing up a cure. In hindsight, he probably should have done it in advance. "Sorry. I'm sorry for... everything. It's a mess." He wasn't sure whether he was going to feel better or worse in the morning, but for now all he cared about was going to sleep. At least he didn't have to think about seeing Hezekiah tomorrow. Facing him day after day felt like some cruel punishment. "Don't tell Kata," he mumbled, his mouth continuing to make noises though his brain had already abandoned ship. "I know you won't, but - I just - I don't want her to know I'm sad. She'll send me cakes and I can't eat them all."
 
Worry not, Dear friend, I’ll be here for you.” It was rather a short statement, but one that was nevertheless true to a point. Some things were hard to think about, like the future or the past, but his love for his dear friend was not something he had to quantify. Arvo had always considered Monty among the great achievements of his life and through the younger man was not his son, there were indeed moments that existed in which he almost considered him such. Monty was his best friend and he wanted to help him whenever he could, but his life sometimes did not go as planned. “I’ll not tell her, you know I won’t.” He turned away from Monty then, slowly stumbling away from him to make later preparations. The alcohol had been too much tonight, he knew he couldn’t push himself but there were times that called for more than a moments hesitation. He would suffer for this, he knew, come morning, his body was not as it once was. But Monty was his dear friend and he would never falter. Not one iota. “Thank you, Monty. You’ve no idea that joy you so often bring into my life.” It was a hard life, but it was his life, and dark as it was, he’d never change it.
 

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