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There's a tension. Thick, and mean, with a special kind of coldness spreading throughout the middle.
There had been a fight. No..an argument, would be better fitting. Harsh words shared between the two that neither had really meant. Bottled emotions struggling to spill over, finally translated by heated pools of gold, and splintered wood.
To be quite honest, neither Midas nor Montague could remember what had even been the ignition to such a heated argument. Hell, it was more likely than anything that both had been tense, stressing about their own issues, anger and anxiety festering, leading into an inevitable collision once both had tried to find comfort in the other.
What had really struck a blow wasn't what had even started such a heated exchange. It was when it grew, as arguments tend to, going miles away from the original problem and halting firmly at reoccurring issues. Discussions and problems that had long since been abandoned. Never even been resolved, really.
Awhile back, Montague had presented to Midas two rings. Nothing extravagant, like the shining jewels you see on tv where the rock could make your finger sore. Something simple. Still, there was an odd sense of beauty to the rings despite being reminiscent of placeholder bands. Plain silver and gold gleamed with twice the beauty of any cut diamond ring.
Nevertheless, this had backed Midas into a corner he very much was not prepared for. He'd very much discussed with him previously that he wasn't ready for that kind of commitment. Something so..permanent. Probably never would be. He simply wasn't deserving of his hand. The hand of someone so pure, someone so much better than he. A man so bright, that even when presented with a curse similar to his own, it'd been used instead as if a power. Lending a hand and restoring, not destroying and tainting everything in sight like he himself has only used his curse for.
And God, he'd shine while doing so. Lights and rainbows gleaming everywhere, shining a bright spotlight all over his sins and bad choices with nowhere to go and play pretend, Seeing through any facade he could scramble together. Like the judgement of an angel. Angelic. Everything that he wasn't.
Years of self hatred has begun to fester and boil within mere seconds, festering into what could only be explosive and deafening. Harsh words spit out without a thought, like a dog lashing out to a catcher with the intent to only catch and release. And gold, now liquid, streams through clenched fists.
However, it'd been contained almost immediately. Like covering a grease fire with a pan lid, Montague had once again proved himself a better man. Always the one to silence him. there to catch his tongue when he forgets himself, had insisted that no love infected commitment was necessary.
Despite himself in the moment however, the idea of marriage to Montague admittedly makes a small, almost forgotten part of his mind content. But he has to be honest with himself. He has his own doubts. Fears. Self hatred. A foreign discomfort makes itself home there, and he's fully aware of its presence. So he'd told him the only thing that could ever be considered logical in the moment. Forget about it. Let it go. Like the way you let the waves caress and pull away your dreams and aspirations of youth, woven inside a tied piece of paper and hugged by a glass bottle.
It'd been on the back of both of their minds. Cluttered and disturbed, forming into its own version of a scrambled, festering irritation. And of course, as everything in life is said to do, came full circle. Forcing itself to be confronted and dealt with despite whatever half hearted 'solution' had been previously agreed upon. Wedged itself right below the surface, waiting impatiently for the moment a fresh wound has begun to form. And of course that's what had happened the moment a confrontation had melded together.
after a long shared silence, a sharp sigh leaves pursed lips. Jet black eyebrows furrow as a nose bridge if pinched in frustration.
"Let us at least sit down, no? This is childish." Montague asks, standing straight. He's answered by an awkward beat of silence and a scowl in return. -tbc-