A Stupid little thing called love Ch. 4

Chapter 4: Loving Suffocation – by preety_lady_serenity

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“Papa,” her voice echoed making him shot up in his sleep.  He looked around the dark room and then he remembered.  Jenny, his little Jenny, was not coming back.  Her mother took her away.  It was all Charles Montgomery Burns' fault.  It was his fault his Jenny was taken away.  It was his fault she died.  That man had killed his baby girl.  She had only been seven years old!  He took everything away from him.  He had pay!  He had to pay for stealing her book.

He was in pain.  His head hurt and it felt like it was on fire.  He had to take his painkillers.  That would let him sleep.  He would sleep long enough to feel better and get his revenge.

He called out loud for her to come.  His teeth clenched.  That woman that lied to him and gave him the weird medicines.  She had hid away his painkillers.  He knew it was all Burns' doing.  He must have been the one to hire her to torment him.  He called for her again but then she remembered.  The woman was now staying in the garden, where he put her.  He was no longer at that place where they constantly lied to to him.  

He stood up and sat on his chair.  He opened the desk's drawers and found two pills.  He gulped them down.  Jenny photo stared back at him from inside the drawer.  She was blond. Cheerful with a teddy bear in her arms.  He still had the teddy bear but Burns stole her book.  He saw it in his study.

“What would a grown man do with a little girl's book?” he asked out loud his head about to explode from pain, “He doesn't have any children.”

“He's keeping it to cause you pain and misery.  So that Jenny will be unhappy,” a shrill voice reasoned.  “If you get the book she can be happy once more.”

“I don't know where he hid her book,” he whimpered.

“That's why you need to bring Burns' here.  He'll tell you where to find it.  But to get him to talk we need to do that other thing.”

The man took a piece of paper and started writing.  He looked at the stash of photographs that were placed on the wall; a wallpaper made of newspaper articles.  Charles Montgomery Burns was in all of them and next to him there was the man in question.  He was in his early forties, the age his Jenny would have been.  He felt sorry for the bespectacled man but this was only for a few seconds.  He could not be soft now.  Burns had to talk so he could find peace.  No, he did not want to kill the young man but he would do it, eventually, because he knew Burns.  Burns would force him with his behavior to kill him. He looked at what he had written and returned to bed.

-)-)-)

Waylon Smithers Jr.  looked at his image with a scowl of displeasure.  The skin near his nose and right eye was not healing as fast as he wished to.  He had been back to the Plant for four days but his appearance still limited the amount of work he could do.  He did not want his appearance to influence any of Monty's business meetings negatively.  He, therefore, excused himself from all the upcoming business appointments until he could fully heal.  His face was currently plagued with a greenish-yellow bruise that was a reminder of what had happened that night.  Unfortunately that was the only reminder of that given night as his memory of the celebration had never returned.  

“Waylon I'm ready,” he heard Monty's voice as the door of their bedroom opened abruptly, “Smithers, how much time do you plan admiring yourself.  Wear some clothes on will you?”

Monty Burns stood before him and was staring at him with a look of satisfaction.  He was in his good, blue business suit, which caused Smithers to realise he was still naked, except from the towel he had wrapped around his waist.

“Shit!” Waylon let out and hurried to his wardrobe, “What time is it?”

“Quarter to nine,” Monty Burns said idly sitting on the room's only armchair.

“QUARTER TO NINE?” Waylon screeched as he hoped on one foot trying to wear his new gray suit's trousers, “Monty, why didn't you call me twenty minutes ago?”

“And pass this chance to miss this nice view?” Monty teased him back sardonically, meeting a 'Monty' of frustration, “Well, truth is, my dear Waylon, that I did call you twenty minutes ago.  During your Malibu Stacey shower bonanza.”

Waylon Smithers Jr. hurried to his bow-tie holder box and found his blue bow-tie.  He placed it around his neck and turned swiftly towards the mirror to tie it, almost colliding with his boss.

“Hold your horses Smithers,” Burns let out placing his hands on the man's chest to prevent the impact, “Let me inspect you first.”

“Is this truly necessary?” Smithers let out only to be ignored.

“You always had problems with buttoning your shirt straight, and tucking in your shirt properly,” the older man commented slyly as he fondled with the man's buttons.

“Monty, you're supposed to be buttoning, not the other way around,” Smithers almost whined trying to button his shirt where Monty was unbuttoning.  It had always been that way.  The more nervous and anxious he, Waylon, would have been then the more in the mood for teasing and love-making would become.  “Monty I need to to tie this,” he let out a moan as the other man's hands found their way into his boxers, “Mr. Brannan hates waiting.  I asked- ah- Monty for the love of- ah – is this the right time?”

“Waylon, Waylon, is there ever a wrong time?” his lover whispered hoarsely as he sucked the nape of his neck.

The younger man let out a moan and placed his hands around Monty's waist, drawing him closer.  He planted his lips against the other man's for a long, deep kiss.  He felt Monty's grasp loosen a bit as he bit his lower lip.

“Not fair,” the older man whimpered in defeat as he felt his knees give away from the lack of oxygen.  He let his body rest inside Smithers' arms as the younger man stopped kissing his mouth and pecked his cheeks, allowing him to get the oxygen his body needed to function.

“I'm sorry Monty,” Waylon whispered between pecks, “I'm not allowing anyone to make you late for your appointment, not even yourself.”

“Slave driver,” Monty Burns scoffed as he tried to tie Smithers' bow-tie, still not having regained the use of his feet.

“What can I say?” Smithers chuckled not letting him go, “I've learnt from the very best.  I promise to make it up to you tonight.”

“Smithers you would have been just a babe in the woods if you had thought otherwise.”

As he was driven to his appointment Monty Burns pondered upon a topic that was irrelevant to the upcoming business occasion.  With the incident of the mansion getting broken into, and Smithers' severe concussion, the subject of him declaring his love was put aside.  It was a fact that he had taken care of Smithers with a lot of devotion while he was not bed-ridden, but this was not what Smithers longed for.   He wondered when would be the time to tell Smithers that he has brought chaos to logic and essence to his being. And how…

“What are you thinking about?”

Smithers was busy driving one of the company's cars and was not looking at him.  For a second Monty Burns felt his cheeks flame and his breath taken away.  The young man looked absolutely dashing in his gray suit, white shirt and serious look behind his glasses.  This was the Smithers he so adored, the person he so rightly deserved to call a life partner.

At that point he did not care about making it special.  He just wanted to say it there and then. He opened his mouth only to find he was a second too late.  The car stopped in front of a tall building and Smithers looked at him with his work face on and that reminded him that declaring love was not to be done prior to a business appointment.

“I'd prefer it if you attended the meeting,” Mr. Burns commented as he checked his papers one more time, “I don't think John Brannan would mind your bruise.”

“This might be the case,” Smithers reasoned, trying not to argue with him, “but I still have a lot of work waiting for me at the Plant, before meeting you again after you lunch with Mr. Brannan.”
.
“Just be careful, will you? We still haven't found out who was behind the mansion's break in.  And as I said...”

“I know Monty,” Smithers interrupted him,  with a tone that suggested he had heard the line a lot of times, “It's a direct declaration of war.”

“Smithers do take me seriously,” Monty Burns said; a tone of annoyance painting his voice.

“I'm taking your words seriously,” Smithers replied in equal annoyance, “but stop sheltering me and worrying as if I can't take care of myself.”

“Well go and get yourself killed then!” the older man voice rose a pitch, “You think it's nice catering for your every whim and fancy?”

“No one's asked you to do it if you don't want to,” Waylon said icily.

“Who said I didn't want to?” Monty argued back, “But you're too – OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE!” he exclaimed and pierced his lips together, “I can't do this right now.  I need to be calm for this meeting.”

“Monty-”

“Mr. Smithers,” Burns cut him off, “I do not wish to speak to you right now.”

He got our of the car and entered the office building in front of him.  Waylon Smithers Jr. took his cigarette packet out and lit one up.  He inhaled the smoke, letting his nerves calm down. He let out a sigh.  Ever since his concussion they had both been to their wits' end. He had become irritated due to his amnesia and the fact that Monty had become too overprotective for his liking made him feel as if he was suffocating.  He, Waylon Smithers, had spent a large chunk of his life feeling smothered.  At first it was because of aunt Vera's, his adoptive mother's tendency to overprotect him.  Her fear of what would happen if people were to find out he was a homosexual caused her to take him to therapies and had chocked any form of self-expression.  In his fear of causing his uncle and aunt disappointment he decided to keep his own feelings hidden.  It was this mindset that had kept him from confessing his feelings to Monty. He feared that he would lose the only person that allowed him, in rare occasions, some portions of self-expression.  Yet Mr. Burns was not the ideal person to love.

Waylon Smithers Jr. was not the naive person he often let out, nor he let love cloud his judgment.  He always knew that Charles Montgomery Burns was a horrible, money-loving, manipulating bastard that would go to great lengths to get what he wanted. He just pretended not to notice as he did not wish to bring attention to who he really was.  His friends called him crazy for being in love with the most hated man in Springfield and he suspected that his soul would benefit greatly if he chose a kinder person for a life partner.  Yet he couldn't.  Mr. Burns' mannerisms fascinated him.  It was amazing how a man that looked so fragile could be so fearless and how he would not hesitate to destroy people if that meant he would get what he wanted.  Some people would say that they were an odd couple but reality was that they were too similar.  Smithers loved the thrill of power he felt while he was with the older man.  He did not care about what other people would say or think of him; not when the strongest man in Springfield would show how much he appreciated his efforts.

At some point, unfortunately, things turned sour for him.  Monty started treating him in the same cruel way he treated other people; even worse sometimes.  That caused the feelings of suffocation to return once more.  Yet what was worse was his own feelings.  His inner reactions scared him and made him feel conflicted.  There were days he adored the man and then he would feel so angry with him that he mused on how easily he could poison him and get over with him.  And his hands would itch so much to punch him.  Those feelings scared him and there were days that he longed to get rid of the infatuation he felt.  The unfortunate thing was that Mr. Burns never failed to sense his displeasure and a few moments later he would do the one thing Smithers craved the most.  He would give him his most sincere smile of appreciation.  At that moment Smithers would be reminded that his shackles would not break easily.  

It wasn't until four years prior that his life changed.  He had returned to his apartment from a wedding celebration he had attended with Patty.  He had taken off clothes, put his pajamas and fell on his bed.  He had spent the weekend away from his boss, surrounded with friends and was feeling relaxed and totally happy.  He took his alarm clock to set it on his waking hour and to his horror he could not do it.  He could not bare setting a foot in that Plant nor he could find the power to cater for Monty's needs.  That night he called Patty in a state of sheer panic, crying and asking for help.  A month later he resigned.

Losing him was the catalyst that made Burns realise how much he could not be without him. Once they started dating Monty tried his best to treat him as his equal and even though they had their rocky moments ever since he, Waylon, felt his lover and partner appreciated him.  The last four years had been a bliss with him being pampered and his thoughts taken into consideration.  Ever since the attack, nevertheless, things had changed.  Monty treated him as if was a vulnerable person that would not survive danger.  That irked him so much as he felt that his partner did not trust him nor had he realised what he was capable of.  Waylon put off his cigarette and drove away.

-)-)-)

Charles Montgomery Burns inhaled and exhaled sharply trying to soothe his nerves.  The situation had been dragging too long for his liking.  He hated to admit it but Waylon had been right about him being overprotective.  The outcomes of that attack had somehow managed to shaken him.  Smithers was the kind of person that seemed to bounce back however difficult the situation was.  Yet, he was almost killed that night and had collapsed far too many times from its outcome.  This had caused him to realise that Smithers was younger but he was not indestructible.  He, Monty Burns, had always thought that Smithers would outlive him but at that moment he realised that this might not be the case.  In fact what truly worried him was the fact that Waylon had always put him first over his own safety.  What if that person that was after him attacked and Waylon got hurt again trying to save him? Or even worse, get killed.  This was the reason he wanted to be close to him at all times.  So he could prevent the unimaginable.

“Mr. Burns,” a young woman approached him and shook his hand, “I'm Mrs. Ranger – Mr. Brannan's assistant. I've spoken on the phone with your assistant – Mr. Waylon Smithers -” she stopped and looked around trying to spot the missing person.

“Mr. Smithers won't be joining us today,” he grumbled, “I need someone competent at the Plant as my team of consultants will also be in this meeting.”

“I see,” the young woman stated, “Let me inform Mr. Brannan of your arrival.  Can you please follow me?”

He was led in a big room as Brannan's assistant informed her boss of his arrival. A few moments later the woman returned and led him to her boss' office.  A man in his mid-sixties stood up from behind his desk and greeted him with a strong handshake.

“Monty, how long has it been?” he asked him with a smile.

“It's twenty-five years Johnny boy.  How's life treated you?  The last time we did business together was when you and your brother decided to sell me your store after that unfortunate stock market incident.”

John Brannan's face dropped but quickly regained its smile.  Mr. Burns was known to be caustic in his remarks but reality was that he needed someone as callous as he was to do business with.  Setting a firm alone had started to show its signs and it was rumored that Burns has a protege that would take over once he had decided to resign.  Or at least that was what he sources told him.

“I took my share and set a clothing business, as you know, then I turned it to a franchise business and here we are.”

There was a knock on the door and Brannan's assistant announced that everything was set at the conference room.  They stood and as they did so Brannan's beeper let out a 'beep'. The younger man looked at it and for a second his eyes hardened/  The ' beep' was brushed off, nevertheless, and they were led to the conference room.

-)-)-)

Waylon Smithers Jr. had returned from his Plant inspection when the phone rang.

“Burns Nuclear Power Plant, this is Waylon Smithers speaking,” he answered and he was greeted by Fat Tony's voice, “Mr. D' Amico, how may I help you?”

“I need to speak with Mr. Burns,” the Italian mobster replied.

“Mr. Burns is currently at a business meeting.  May I take a message?”

“I found the two fellows that arranged your face new.  They told me about the book they were looking for.”

Waylon Smithers listened carefully and then put the receiver down.  This could not be right! It made no sense!  He looked at his watch.  It was still half past seven.  He took out a cigarette and lit it up.  He inhaled and exhaled, taking the smoke in his body.  It had a soothing effect.  As he smoke his thoughts were racing.  The book that Fat Tony had described to him was not unknown to him.  This was not a surprise as he had access to Monty's library ever since he was a little boy.  Yet the book in question never belonged to Mr. Burns.  It belonged to him.  It was a children's book; a 'Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes' book his mother had bought him when he was seven years old.  He met Monty in the park two years later.  As a child he used to take the book with him to the manor when he visited Monty for 'Reading Friday'.  He tapped his index on the ashtray thoughtfully.  How much time would he need to go from the Plant to his uncle's and aunt's house.

He felt his mouth turn dry the moment he thought of his aunt.  He had not seen her for a long time – three years to be exact.  He always felt immense sadness when he thought of her. Waylon loved his aunt.   He truly did! He had been neglected by his mother as a child and she had been like a second mother to him.  When his mother died she adopted him without a second thought.  She always pampered him for being her precious little boy.  The only thing she could never approve was his fascination for Monty – and then his attraction to boys.

At the age of seventeen and after five years of on-and-off “treatments” that she dragged him to, Waylon Smithers Jr. decided to “reform”. He decided not to get into trouble again, got a girlfriend and married her as soon as he finished university.  On his wedding day he looked as Vera's eyes shone with pride and happiness, took a deep breadth and walked down the isle finalizing the chapter of her dreams.  He spent two very empty years until he started working for Monty.  Then chaos broke loose.

FLASHBACK

He sat there and wished the armchair could swallow hi,m.  He had uttered the words they always knew but he was not allowed to say out loud. He wanted them to realize that he had finally found someone he could call a life partner and he truly wished them to be a part of his relationship.

“I love him,” he repeated his final statement.  He looked at his uncle, who had turned his attention to his wife and waited.  She quietly stood up and moved towards the door.

“Auntie...” he squeaked and shot up trying to stop her, “Listen I didn't mean to...”

“I can't deal with this,” she let out hoarsely, pushing him away and ran to her room.

“I'm sorry!” he shouted in agony and looked at his uncle in desperation.  The older man just looked at him guiltily and for the first time Waylon Smithers felt really vulnerable.

“Waylon,” the old man said in a quivering voice after what seemed an eternity, “You're my kid and I'm going to be there for you. I want you to be happy,” he hugged him and petted his head like he used to when he was a little boy, “I'll talk to Vera about this.  Go home.  I'll call you in the morning.”

Waylon Smithers Jr. entered the mansion and went to his bedroom.  He changed to his pajamas and lay on his bed.  He turned to his side and tried hard not to let the escape his eyes.  His chest hurt and felt lonely; as if his mother had died once again.  Why couldn't she accept him for who he truly was?

He heard Monty's footsteps approaching the bedroom and took his best sleeping pose.  The older man shuffled in the en-suit bathroom for a few moments and then entered the bed. Waylon squeezed his eyes shut as he felt two boney hands wrap around him. He felt the tears roll down his cheeks and somehow Monty's cologne made him want to bury his head against the chest that held him and cry.

“It's OK if you want to cry,” Monty's voice stated, “I won't mind doing the pampering every once in awhile.”

That night Waylon Smithers Jr. cried himself to sleep.

END OF FLASHBACK

He put off his cigarette and shook his head.  There was not time for him to become a mess.  He placed the phone receiver to his ear and dialed a number.  He let it ring thrice and hang up.  He looked at his watch. Once sixty seconds passed he called again. He started counting the dial signals.  He knew that if he were to reach the fourth one without answer he ought to hang up and try later.

“Hello?” an old male voice answered the phone, “Waylon is that you?” he asked in hesitation.

“Hi Uncle Jim,” he said softly, “Yes it is I. How are you?”

“I'm good my boy,” the older voice answered happily, “It's good to hear your voice. I haven't had a phone call from you in a long time.”

“I've been very busy with work, and life,” he answered truthfully.  He was glad that at least his uncle was speaking to him.

“That's no excuse,” the voice grumbled, “You'd think you and your partner would take the time to visit me when Vera's not here.  You have no shame – letting the man who played horsie with you alone in his old age.”

“I'm not really allowed to your house uncle,” he let out with a sigh, “and I don't want to stir trouble between you and aunt Vera.”

“It's your house as well,” Jim said seriously, “You should at least try and visit when she isn't here.  Like today for example.  She'll be away for at least two hours,” he proposed sneakily.

“I've got an hour to spare.  I'll drop by as soon as I can.”

Fifteen minutes later he found himself outside the house he had spent a large portion of his childhood.  He knocked the door and a few seconds later it opened to reveal a man in his early eighties.  He wore a pair of jeans, a white shirt and his white hair and beard were neat and tidy.  The old man allowed him in and grasped him into a hug.

“Waylon my boy! It's so good to see you son,” he whispered emotionally but his face dropped when he noticed the bruise on his face, “What happened?”

“The perks of having the most powerful man in Springfield as your life partner, and boos, extend beyond flying to Paris on a whim.  Sometimes you get to protect him,” he answered with a smile, “It was nothing serious, I swear.”

“I've made some coffee,”his uncle said not insisting on details, “Do come in! Tell me your news.”

“How's my aunt,” Smithers asked as he drunk his coffee, avoiding to look at the man sitting opposite him.

“Don't worry Waylon.  She'll bury us all” his uncle said bitterly.

Waylon drunk his coffee quietly.

“Listen Waylon,” his uncle reassured, “This isn't your fault.  I want you to know that. This lifestyle of yours is not something you could choose.”

“I'm sorry uncle,” he said huskily, “I've ruined everything.”

“Waylon Smithers Jr.” the old man reprimanded him, “Don't you ever apologize for who you are.  If there's someone that should be apologizing it is I, and her.”

“You?”

“Yes, I.  I should have put an end to this madness years ago.  I should have put my foot down when you were twelve and she dragged you to all the therapists around – should have made her see reason.  Now it's too late.  I came to terms with who you are years ago, but I didn't dare to stop her cause I didn't want to admit it.  I truly sorry for this.  Never love on your terms Waylon.”

“I need something my mother gave me,” the young man said not baring to sit any longer, “Can I enter my bedroom?”

The older man stood up slowly and let him to his childhood room.  Waylon opened the door and saw his bedroom exactly as he had left it before moving away to university. He saw his bookcase with the medals from the school chess tournaments, his books and his soccer uniform.

“She cleans this room every day,” his uncle said painfully, “she even clips every article she sees with your name and Mr. Burns'.”

“And yet she won't be in the same room as I am,” Waylon said with bitterness as he found the book he was looking for.

“She loves you only on her own terms,” the older man said and his face dropped, “She's here.”

Waylon turned his head to see outside the window.  Aunt Vera parked her car in the driveway and looked around only to miss him as he hid behind the window's curtain.  Her long brown hair were gone due to the chemotherapy.  She walked inside the house, holding a grocery bag in her hands.

“I'll hide in the closet,” Waylon said slowly and entered the confined space.

“Jim?” her voice echoed, “Jim?”

Jim gave Waylon one last look, “You shouldn't be hiding.  Not in your house.  You should be using the front door, not leaving your house like a thief.”

“I don't want to upset her.  Not while she's going through chemo,” Waylon reasoned, “Don't worry uncle.  I've got thicker skin that I let out.”

He closed the closet's door and seconds later she entered the room to find his uncle, who pretended to be looking at his medals.

“Waylon dropped by,” his uncle stated, “You've probably missed each other by a few seconds.”

“I know,” she replied fluffing the pillows, “I've seen the cups – smelled his cologne.  What did he want?”

“A book.  He asked how you're doing.  As always -_”

“I know where this is going Jim,” she cut him off, “and I don't wish to go over it again”

She got out of the room quickly, followed by her husband.

“He loves you very much and he really wants to see you,” Waylon heard as he tiptoed outside the closet and opened the window.

“He should have thought of that before deciding to live with that man.” were the last words he heard.  He ran to where he had parked his car as fast as he could.  He put the book in his briefcase, lit a cigarette and drove away.

-)-)-)

“I found this to be a satisfying meeting,” Charles Montgomery Burns said as he shook John Brannan's hand, “Yet we shall meet again to finalize the deal.  And you can meet my associate, Mr. Smithers, as well.”

“Certainly Mr. Burns,” the other man said and his beeper went off again, much to Monty's displeasure.  That infernal device had been beeping incessantly throughout the morning and even though Brannan chose to ignore it, Burns found it extremely distasteful.  He could never understand young people's fascination with new technological devices, especially the ones that made you too available to everyone and anyone.  At least Smithers could control himself and used his beeper rarely.

He got out of the building as Smithers parked the car.  The young man got out and opened the door for him.  They both sat inside, avoiding to look at each other.

“Mr. Smithers -Sir -”

They talked at the same time and stopped.  Mr. Burns turned to look at him but Smithers kept focusing on the road ahead him.

“Smithers – Mr. Burns - “

They spoke again in unison.  Mr. Burns pierced his lips together.

“Waylon – Monty -”

“Goddammit!” they both shouted in unison and fell silent.

“So, are we going to talk to each other or are we going to continue to pretend we are the film protagonists of the local petting pantry?” the older man scoffed crossing his arms.

Waylon Smithers smiled briefly at the anachronism but turned serious once more.  This could not go forever.  It was going to destroy them.

“How did the meeting go?”

“I think it went well, if one disregards John Brannan's love for beepers,” the older man replied, “How was your morning at the Plant?”

“Not too bad. Same old's same old. But we're currently graced by environmental activists.”

“Is Lisa Simpson one of them?”

“No sir.”

“Well there's no reason to worry about.”

The trip to the Power Plant remained silent.  Once they arrived Mr. Burns entered his office while Waylon sat on his desk outside.  It was near lunch and nap time and Smithers pondered upon entering Monty's office and talking to him.  Yet they had promised to leave their personal life outside the office so he decided to eat his sandwich on his own.  He took his sandwich and started munching it as he looked at the workers shutting down the reactors and moving towards the cafeteria.

Suddenly something caught his eye on the monitor that showed the parking lot.  There was someone moving in all fours and doing something.  He squinted his eyes  and then stood up.  He had to tell Monty.

He knocked the door twice and as soon as he heard a welcoming response he hurried inside.

“I need to check your monitors,” he said and looked at the television screens on the wall.  He quickly found the parking lot's camera and he was certain.

“Call security,” he told Monty as he ran out of the room, “There's an intruder in the Plant.”