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Ewen Montagu had been having a particularly shitty day. He had spent his morning pacing his room, begging the mirror to let him look flat today. Undoing and retying the bandages until his sides were red raw in an attempt to hold himself together. If he wasn't bound tight enough, he feared he'd simply fall apart. But Ewen Montagu didn't 'fall apart', did he?
Subsequently, he had almost missed his tube after spending too much time staring at the reflection that he couldn't call his own. He entered the tube a sweaty, shaking mess, causing many eyes to be drawn to him (something he despised more than anything else). He scowled back at prying eyes and buried his head in his briefcase, begging for them to look away.
After reaching the office, one of the only places he felt in control despite the complicated mission he was supposed to have control over, Monty thought the day couldn't get any worse, could it?
Wrong.
Jean, Charlie and Monty spent their morning at their respective desks, a silent agreement between the trio that no one was in the mood for laughing just yet. Each person scribbled away at various papers, shuffled files and tapped their pen against the desk. Monty stared at the files before him, and they stared back. Tapping his foot under the desk, he nibbled on the end of his nails, desperate for an understanding to form between him and the words on the page. The whole morning had thrown him, he just couldn't focus. Not on the paperwork, not on the mission, not on anything but the ache in his chest. It all became an unsettling rhythm, the loud tapping of his pen against his teeth, the agitating sound of his shoes against the tiled floor. He glanced over at Charlie, who had an adorable expression of concentration painted across his face. His pink tongue poked from the side of his mouth as he stared down at the pages below him and scribbled away frantically. It was honestly admirable, the speed that the man could write at. Monty found himself staring, simply in awe of the man across the room from him. Despite his love for Charlie, a pang of jealousy shot Monty in the heart when he watched him smooth the wrinkles in his shirt, his hands gliding easily down his flat chest. Something Monty could only long for, a reality that could never come true. Suddenly, a loud crack came from Monty's mouth as his jaw tensed and he bit down on his pen. Thick, black ink spilled from his lips down his crisp, white shirt. Immediately, panic set in as he picked up the nearest, discarded piece of paper and frantically mopped up the ink. It was no use, the stain already the size of a golf ball. Jean was the first to notice, perking up at the sound of Monty shuffling around.
"Oh Monty!" She squeaked as she stood up at her desk with a loud scrape of her chair against the tiled floor.
"Here, let me help." Giggling slightly, she rushed over to the cleaning closet in the corner of the basement and returned with a sopping wet cloth in her hands.
With gentle hands, she pulled at Monty's shirt causing him to reel back. She was far too close.
"Stop squirming Ewen! I'm trying to help you silly." Her grip now slightly more forceful as she scrubbed the stain with the cloth. Monty knew she didn't have any bad intentions however rage and fear were bubbling in the pit of his stomach. His emotions took over as he shoved her away with a little more force than intended.
"Leave it Jean." He snarled, not realising how horrible he sounded, completely blinded by his terror. Drenched in water, his white shirt began sticking to his skin, sticking to his bandages. And, like white shirts do, it had started going see through, revealing the lies beneath. Suddenly everything was hazy, sirens screaming in Monty's head as he clutched his arms to his chest. He didn't know when his legs started moving but before he could stop himself he was sprinting towards the closet.
Charlie had noticed by now, jumping up from his seat with a worried shout.
"Monty!?"
He shot a concerned look at Jean from across the room to which she responded with a panicked shrug.
"I don't know what happened Charles.. I didn't mean to.." Her voice trailed off watching Charlie dash towards where Monty had hidden himself. Humiliated and devastated by what she had caused, Jean walked out of the basement with her head hung low, hoping to find Hester or perhaps Bella (the stunning girl she met in the typing pool) on her way.
Monty was a mess. Curled up in a ball on the closet floor, heavy, shaking sobs coming from his heaving body. He rocked back and forth, murmuring soft comforts to himself in an attempt to calm down. He was not going to have an episode here. Not now. As if the hyperventilating wasn't enough, the pungent smell of cleaning chemicals made the pounding in his head worse. Rhythmically, he tapped his fingers against his leg:
1, 2, 3, 4
1, 2, 3, 4
1, 2, 3-
A gentle knock on the cupboard door.
"Monty.. it's me."
Soft and sweet, Charlie's voice interrupted his panic, snatching him back to reality. A lump formed in Monty's throat, he opened his mouth to send Charlie away but was choked by his own cries.
"Can I come in?" He asked, a slight hesitancy in his voice.
Monty knew Charlie had never seen one of his breakdowns before, only his brother had seen him in this situation and he detested that. Shaking in fear, he buried his head in his hands and screwed up his eyes, hoping that the other man would simply give up and walk away. It wasn't until Monty heard the creaking of the doorknob that he jumped back to consciousness, the possibility of his genius seeing him this way weighing down on his aching chest. Unable to move or speak, he simply curled up tighter, feeling extremely small and insignificant in amidst the darkness.
Strong but gentle, he felt a hand on his shoulder, calm and steady compared to his shivering body.
"It's just me Monty, i'm here."
He tensed up at the contact, praying that he could just disappear, yet Charlie stayed firm by his side, gently rubbing his shoulder in comforting circles.
"Breathe with me, ok? In for 3 out for 3." Charlie's voice like the calm after the storm, pulling the weight from Monty's fragile body with each deep breath. Their chests rose and fell with perfect harmony, like two broken clocks synchronised for a moment of the day. Seeing Monty so vulnerable brought back memories of Charlie's childhood, navigating the world as an unpopular, unliked, autistic boy often ended in panicked tears. Luckily, he'd learnt many grounding techniques from his dear, late mother and wasn't afraid to use them to help his best friend.
"It's just us Ewen, Jean's gone. Something about going to see that girl she likes.. Bella? Was that her name? The one with the blonde hair and the bow..? Anyways you don't have to worry about her, she'll be gone a while i'm sure of it."
Listening to Charlie ramble on was like a soothing melody, combined with the gentle touch of his hand on Monty's shoulder was enough to calm his breathing and settle his nerves. He lifted his head from his hands and turned to look at his friend, his face sticky from tears and his eyes burning from crying. He was greeted with a smile, Charlie's big, brown eyes gazing back at Monty with soft compassion.
"Will you tell me what's going on?"
Charlie asked, bringing a hand to Monty's heated cheek and brushing away a tear.
"Could you... do you have a spare shirt?" The words got caught in Monty's throat as he practically choked on each syllable. Now that he was more aware of his surroundings he was reminded of the sopping wet shirt sticking to his slipping bandages. It was cold against his skin, sending shivers down his spine.
"Of course Monty, i'll go fetch one for you. Please don't stress while i'm gone."
Before Monty's frantic mind even had a chance to take over, Charlie returned within minutes with a fresh, white shirt, far too long for Monty's short stature. Charlie scratched the back of his head bashfully and chuckled, "It might be a bit big but it should work."
He then turned to face the door, shielding his eyes from Monty in order for him to change. That tiny gesture was enough to send butterflies to Monty's stomach as he peeled off his shirt and readjusted his bandages. Leaving a red mark around his torso, they dug into his skin but he just brushed it off, wanting to get changed as quick as possible.
"I'm done." Monty sighed, staring longingly at the back of Charlie's head as he awkwardly stood facing the door. His genius' gracelessness had grown on Monty and he seemed to find it endearing, the way he lolloped around and always seemed to end up in the most socially awkward positions. And yet despite this, Charlie was handling Monty's breakdown with the most care and skill he'd ever experienced. Charlie returned to his best friend's side and placed an arm around his shoulders.
"Take your time." Was all he said, no pressure, no rush, just a simple sign that he was ready to listen when Monty found the words.
"I'm not.. I haven't always been.." He had been reduced to a stuttering mess and as he looked up into Charlie's eyes he expected laughter or judgement. Instead, he was met with nothing but patience, a small smile playing on Charlie's lips as he waited for Monty to find the words.
"I wasn't born a boy... but I am one now- Does that make sense?" Tears began streaming from his eyes as he forced the sentence from his lungs. His cries were immediately interrupted by a pair of long arms around his waist. Charlie pulled Monty into a sudden hug, burying his face into the smaller man's shoulder and gently stroking his golden hair.
"Oh love, you could've told me.."
"It wasn't- it isn't safe to tell people."
"You're always safe with me."
The pair melted into each other, months of longing and bottled up tears all crashing through. Soft sobs filled the air of the cupboard as they sat and held each other for what felt like hours. It took a while for them both to settle, but once they did Charlie held Monty by his shoulders and smiled that stupid, dorky smile.
"All better?"
Monty nodded, a similar smile painting itself on his face. He'd never felt more safe or cared for up until this point and he was simply lost for words.
"Good, because a think you might owe Jean an apology."