Consume Me Whole

Feeding the Beast

The sterile scent of the therapist's office felt suffocating to Monty. It was a familiar atmosphere that held no comfort, only the promise of uncomfortable truths waiting to be unearthed. Monty sat on the edge of the couch, fingers tapping rhythmically against the fabric, trying to maintain a sense of calm. Dr. Brooks studied him with an unwavering gaze, a slight smile of encouragement etched across his face.

"Montgomery," he began, his voice steady, "let's talk about the shame you mentioned last week. How does it feel to confront that?"

Monty exhaled sharply, his mind racing as he grappled with the question. Shame. The word echoed like a ghost in his head, haunting and relentless. "It feels like... like I'm a burden," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Like no matter how hard I try, I'll never be what anyone wants me to be."

"Especially when it comes to your sexuality?" he prompted gently.

"Yeah," Monty muttered, glancing down at the floor, where the carpet fibers seemed to weave stories of their own. "Every time I've tried to love a boy... even Winston... it feels like I'm tearing something out of myself." The weight of those words felt heavy on his chest, like stones stacked one upon another, suffocating his spirit.

Dr. Brooks nodded thoughtfully. "That's a powerful metaphor, Montgomery. Can you explore what that tearing feels like?"

Monty clenched his fists, a familiar rage bubbling to the surface. "It feels like I'm going to break apart. Like..there's this monster inside of me that only wants to eat. I'm afraid that one day, if I let myself love Winston fully, there'll be nothing left of me."

"Why do you think love has to be destructive?" he asked.

"Because that's all I've ever known," Monty replied, his voice thick with emotion. "My dad loved my mom like a beast. He consumed everything. It was always a fight, and I guess I learned that love is about tearing people down instead of building them up."

Dr. Brooks regarded him carefully. "But what if love doesn't have to be that way? What if it can be nurturing rather than consuming?"

Monty shook his head, the thought too foreign, too far removed from his reality. "I don't know how to love without it hurting."

That evening, Monty sat on his bed in the dim light of his room, the shadows stretching long across the walls, as Winston appeared at his window, a soft knock breaking the silence. Monty's heart quickened at the sight of him, the boy's familiar smile lighting up the dark like a beacon of hope.

"Hey," Winston said, his voice warm and inviting as he climbed inside. "You okay?"

"Just therapy," Monty replied, shrugging. He didn't want to burden Winston with the weight of his struggles, yet he could see the concern etched on Winston's features.

Winston sat down on the mattress, taking Monty's hands in his. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Monty hesitated, feeling the urge to retreat, to hide the pieces of himself that felt jagged and raw. But as he looked into Winston's eyes, he felt that familiar pull-a yearning for connection, even in his brokenness.

"It's just... hard," Monty admitted. "I keep thinking about how every kiss, every touch feels like... I'm taking a piece of you. Like I'm devouring you, and one day there won't be anything left."

Winston's expression softened, and he squeezed Monty's hands reassuringly. "Monty, love isn't about taking. It's about giving."

Monty scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "It doesn't feel that way. It feels like I'm always hungry, always wanting more. And it scares me."

"Maybe you're looking at it the wrong way," Winston suggested, his voice gentle but firm. "Love can be fulfilling without being destructive. It's about sharing parts of ourselves rather than consuming each other."

"Easier said than done," Monty muttered, feeling the familiar resistance bubble up inside him.

"Then let's take it slow," Winston offered, leaning into Monty as he slid his shoes off. "We don't have to rush into anything. Let's just be here, in this moment, together."

Monty felt the warmth radiating from Winston, a comforting presence that melted away some of the fear gnawing at him as he wrapped his arms around the others waist. Yet, doubts lingered in the back of his mind, refusing to let go.

"But what if I hurt you?" Monty asked, vulnerability creeping into his voice. "What if I can't control the beast inside me?"

Winston took a deep breath, his grip unwavering. "Then we'll face it together. I promise I won't let you go."

Monty nodded, though uncertainty gnawed at him. As Winston turned his head, capturing Monty's lips in a soft kiss, Monty felt that familiar hunger rise again-a mix of desire and fear.

He tried to remind himself that this wasn't about taking; it was about giving. But the instinct to consume was strong, overpowering, and Monty's heart raced as he wrestled with the conflicting emotions within him.

"I want to be better for you," Monty murmured against Winston's lips, the words spilling out in a desperate plea.

Winston smiled, brushing his fingers against Monty's cheek. "You already are, Monty. Just by being here, being honest with me. That's all I need."

But Monty felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, the fear of his past looming large in the shadows. "What if one day, I can't hold back?" he whispered, voice trembling. "What if I end up hurting you?"

Winston leaned closer, his forehead resting against Monty's. "Then we'll figure it out together. I'll always come back, Monty. You're not going to lose me."

In that moment, Monty wanted to believe him. He wanted to accept the warmth of Winston's love without feeling like he was consuming it, without feeling like he was tearing away pieces of himself in the process.

As their lips met again, Monty surrendered to the sensation, letting go of some of the fear. For now, he would focus on the tenderness of the moment, on sharing rather than consuming, even as the beast within him stirred, still hungry but willing to wait.

Maybe love could be something different, something that wouldn't tear him apart. Maybe it could be nourishing, a way to fill the void rather than a source of destruction. And with Winston by his side, Monty felt a flicker of hope igniting in the darkness.