Note - I really wanted to write something about Wes' family, and then this happened. I honestly didn't expect to end up like this, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. Prepare yourself for some Montgomery family drama, as well as some serious Wes whumping - as told from David's perspective.
Summary - Sometimes, Wes feels like his parents forget that he's a human being. He knows that they mean well, but he's not his father. He's his own person with his own dreams and ambitions. So, what if he wants to perform on Broadway? This is his life to live. How hard is that for them to understand?
What most people don't know about Wes is that he doesn't plan on going to Harvard like his father did. After he graduates, he wants to rent an apartment in Pennsylvania and go to Carnegie Mellon University to receive formal training in the performing arts. His parents don't approve though. It doesn't matter that Wes' dream is to perform on Broadway; his parents want him to be a doctor, just like everyone else in their family.
Wes isn't unfeeling. He may act like he doesn't care what his parents think, but he's still a kid - and no kid wants to disappoint his or her parents. How many times has David found his best friend crying because of them? More than he could ever count. The worst part is that there's nothing he can do to make it better; the only thing that he can do is remind Wes that he's not alone.
Things take a turn for the worse when Wes gets accepted into Carnegie. He doesn't tell his parents, but that's mostly because he's not living with them. He's staying in a dorm at Dalton. Wes does his best to avoid all confrontation with his parents, even going as far as blocking their phone numbers, so that they can't call him anymore.
In fact, the only way the Montgomerys find out about the acceptance letter is through Dalton Academy's guidance counselor. That argument hadn't ended well at all. David would know; he was there.
The day had started off as relatively normal as a Saturday could be at Dalton, with David's cell phone blaring some song he couldn't be bothered to remember the name of and Wes threatening to bodily harm him if he didn't turn it off. Wes and David had just returned from their usual trip to the coffee shop across the street when everything went to hell.
"Hello Wesley," Mr. Montgomery greets cordially. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
"What the hell do you want?" Wes snaps, his patience already wearing thin just at the sight of them. "You made it perfectly clear that you don't want anything to do with me last time we talked."
"Care to explain this?" Mrs. Montgomery hands her son an envelope. "This came in the mail today. Look familiar?"
All the blood drains from Wes' face. It's his acceptance letter to Carnegie, the college he had neglected to tell his parents he applied for. David moves to place a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder, but Wes shrugs it off.
"How dare you," he growls. "That wasn't yours to open."
"We're your parents," Mr. Montgomery retorts. "We have the right."
"You have the right? That's what you're going with?" Wes chuckles wryly. "Just because you're my parents doesn't mean anything. You're supposed to give me advice, to be there for me - not tell me how to live my life!
"I don't want to go to Harvard, and I'm sure as hell not going to be a doctor! I want to perform on Broadway, and I can't do that in some clinic in Ohio, now can I? I'm going to go to Carnegie, and there's nothing you can do to change my mind."
"What happened to you, Wesley?" Mrs. Montgomery asks softly, raising a hand to touch her son's cheek. Wes flinches, but he holds his ground. "We didn't raise you like this. You were supposed to go Harvard, become a doctor, settle down with a nice girl, and give me plenty of grandchildren - not go to some performing art college in pursue of a fruitless career and date another man."
Wes jerks back like she slapped him, looking close to tears. David wants nothing more than to pull his boyfriend into his arms, but he doesn't. Wes would never forgive him if he did.
"After all this time, you still don't understand! You people treat me like a doll, something to mold in your image, something to put on display. You don't understand that I'm a person. This isn't about you two! I have dreams and ambitions. I'm not Father, and I never will be. I'm my own person. I don't want to be a doctor; I want to be onstage, performing. When I perform, I'm free to be whomever I want.
"I don't have to pretend to be someone else or someone I'm not. I don't have to play the part of the perfect son or live in the shadow of your expectations. I'm free to be myself; I'm free to be Wes.
"I'm not going to ask you to pay for my tuition, but I do ask that you accept that this is who I am and this is what I want to do. If you like, I can walk out of your lives and never speak to you again. I just need you to accept this."
"…"
"Please say you'll accept this." Wes is openly crying now, desperate to hear an answer that neither of his parents are willing to offer. They stare at him in stony silence, and David already knows what their decision is.
"I expect all of your belongings to be gone by the end of the month. Anything you leave behind will be donated to charity," Mr. Montgomery finally says. "Understand?"
Any pleading now would be futile. Wes resolutely wipes away his tears and straightens, eyes locking with those of his father.
"Yes sir."
"Don't bother to visit; you are no longer our son. You are not welcome on our property."
"I understand."
"Good. Then I believe our business here is done." And with that, Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery take their leave.
As soon as they are gone, Wes lets down all of his defenses and just feels. He cries for the parents who abandoned him when he needed them most, the home he can never return to, and most importantly, the last name that he no longer has. It breaks David's heart to see the boy who carried the weight of the world of his shoulder finally break, and it's up to him to pick up the pieces. He doesn't say anything as he pulls Wes into his arms; he doesn't have to. His actions speak for themselves.
"I tried, David," Wes whimpers into the crook of his neck. "I tried so hard to get them to understand. It's not fair."
"I know it isn't, sweetheart. You did the best you could, and that's all that counts."
"But if I had been a better son, maybe they would've understood."
"Wes, you can't beat yourself up about this. They couldn't have asked for a better son than you. You are an exceptionally talented, intelligent young man and your parents are blind not to see it."
"You think so?"
"I know so."