Never his decision to make

[threecardmonty.livejournal.com]

He's not liquored up, but Monty has downed a whiskey or two. Call it liquid courage, call it self-medication, but he's definitely at the Four Suits trying to figure out how the hell he got himself into this mess with Blythe when all he'd wanted to do from the beginning was spare her a broken heart. Strike that. He didn't break it, just tossed it on the ground and stomped all over it. Damned if he ain't three kinds of SOB. Blythe's a fine woman. She deserves a better man than him. And he's an arrogant SOB, too, 'cause that never was his decision to make. That choice belonged to Blythe.

His track record with women is lousy. He keeps it simple. He keeps it easy. No strings. No hard feelings. Fun and laughter and both happy to see each others back when it's time to go. Blythe isn't like that. Truth be told, once he'd realized Blythe was crushing on him he'd pulled back and friend zoned her quicker than a duck jumps on a June bug. His own attraction he'd wadded up and shoved aside 'cause no way, no how was he fixing to be Blythe's first broken heart. But 'pears that he just might have achieved that dubious honor. And wasn't that another choice he'd stolen away from her?

"Ah, hell," he mumbles and tosses back the last of his whiskey. "Ain't no way I'm leaving it like this." The walk to Heart Castle doesn't take long. Convincing Blythe to talk to him might take a bit longer.


[OOC: Blythe confessed feelings for Monty a few days ago, and he's finally decided to do something about it. This post is mainly for Blythe, but it's open to anyone who wants to catch him drinking or on his way to have things out with her.]

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[somuchheart.livejournal.com]

It's alright. It's all alright. That's the mantra that's been keeping Blythe going for the past few days, after she- well, after she ran away from Monty. Ran away from him? Blythe Merrick, what sort of coward are you? Are you really that antisocial, that weak, that a simple no from a guy has to almost reduce you to tears?

But. It is alright. She can move on. Who really cares, after all, about this sort of shit? Relationships and boyfriends and everything; it just isn't worth the trouble. Nope, not at all. Of course, deep inside, she's still a little raw, still a little achey and breaky and oh god, is she really being this cliche?

But it's over. This whole thing is over and there's nothing she can do about it and maybe it's for the better. Maybe she just isn't girlfriend material. Maybe she just isn't lovable. And that's okay. That's who she is. So she's puts a tight cap on all those silly things like emotions and heartbreak and speculation and goes back to work.

And when she hears a knock at her door one night several days later, she isn't expecting anything out of the ordinary. Maybe it's someone dropping by to tell her they need something, or someone who wants to talk. Either way, she isn't expecting Monty to be there.

She almost slams the door in his face. Instead, she stares up at him, faintly wary, faintly confused, faintly hurt. But mostly shocked. "-Monty. ...Is there something you need?"