Romy sat on the edge of the hotel bed, absentmindedly chewing his bottom lip as his imagination painted a dangerously vivid picture. He could still feel the warmth of Monty's body beside him, see the ghost of a smile on his lips when he laughed, remember the spark in his eyes when he got excited about anything, even just ordering extra cheese on his pasta.
It was infuriating.
And intoxicating.
He bit his lip harder, lost in the fantasy of what it would be like to just lean over and press a kiss on Monty's unsuspecting lips. Just one kiss. Just to feel it. Just to...
SMACK.
Monty's hand gripped Romy's shoulder, shaking him from his mental wander.
"Romy! What are you thinking about? We have to be up early tomorrow! We've got to find evidence to clear my name and expose Naina."
Romy blinked rapidly, caught red-handed in his daydream.
"Y-yeah," he muttered, standing up a little too quickly. "You're right. I was just… thinking about strategy. Yes. Strategy."
Monty raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Romy bolted to the bathroom like a man escaping his own conscience.
Once under the hot shower, Romy leaned his forehead against the cool tile and groaned.
"What the hell am I thinking... Damn it!"
He let the water run over his face, hoping it would wash away the flurry of thoughts. But it didn't. If anything, it stirred them more.
"Monty is just... so... hot," he muttered, blushing even though no one was around. "His hair, his voice, the way he frowns when he's serious. Ugh! Why am I thinking this way?"
Meanwhile, outside in the room, Monty had turned on the TV to distract himself. Big mistake.
The news channel flashed with his name in bold red letters: MONTY: MONSTER OR MISUNDERSTOOD?
His heart dropped.
The anchor's voice was piercing: "Sources claim Monty not only coerced his girlfriend into an abortion but also assaulted her afterward."
Monty flinched.
The comments on the live feed were worse.
"He should be behind bars!"
"Disgusting excuse for a man."
"Naina deserves better. This guy is a psycho."
Monty clutched the remote like a lifeline. His hands trembled. He changed the channel. Same story.
His chest tightened.
He turned the TV off.
But the silence was louder.
Tears welled in his eyes. He wasn't someone who cried easily. Not in public. Not in private either. But now, sitting on a hotel bed in a foreign country, with his reputation burning down back home, the dam finally cracked.
He lowered his head and cried.
------
Romy stepped out of the bathroom, a towel draped around his neck, hair damp and sticking to his forehead. The room was softly lit by the bedside lamp, casting long shadows on the cream-colored walls. He glanced toward the bed and saw Monty lying still, turned to the other side. Assuming he had fallen asleep, Romy quietly dried his hair, changed into his nightwear, and slowly slipped into bed beside him.
The room was quiet, too quiet.
Romy shifted a little, resting his head on the pillow and facing Monty's back. There was something off. He could feel it. A kind of heaviness in the air. His gaze lingered on Monty's silhouette, tense shoulders, uneven breathing.
And then he heard it.
A soft, muffled sniffle. The kind you make when you're trying not to cry but failing miserably.
Romy's chest tightened.
He leaned a little closer, speaking barely above a whisper. "Monty… are you okay?"
Monty didn't respond. He just curled up slightly, pulling the blanket closer, but not before Romy noticed the damp patch on the pillow beneath his face.
It hit him hard.
Monty wasn't asleep. He was crying, silently, secretly, trying to hide his heartbreak even in the dim solitude of night.
Romy's hand hesitated in the air before slowly resting on Monty's shoulder. "I know you're not okay."
Monty flinched under his touch but didn't pull away. After a long pause, his voice came, trembling and broken.
"They all think I'm some kind of monster, Romy… The news, the comments… They want me in jail. For something I didn't do."
Romy closed his eyes, pain crawling under his skin. "I know. I saw the comments too. People are cruel."
Monty turned his face slightly, enough for Romy to catch the shimmer of tears in his eyes. "What if no one ever believes me? What if… this is it? My name… my life… all ruined. And for what? For loving someone once?"
Romy felt anger stir in his blood, not at Monty, but at the world. At the unfairness of it all. At the fact that someone like Monty, who was all heart, had to bear the weight of so many lies.
"You're not alone," Romy said softly, brushing a strand of hair off Monty's forehead. "We're going to fix this. Together."
Monty looked at him, vulnerable and raw. "Why do you care so much?"
Romy swallowed hard. There it was. The question he had asked himself over and over. Why did he care? Was it just about justice? About righting a wrong?
Or was it because, somewhere along the way, this fiery, confusing boy had broken into his heart and never left?
"I don't know," Romy lied. "Maybe that's why I worry about you because we are relatives."
Monty gave a small, bitter laugh, wiping his tears quickly.