[ tim has little time to reach as hawk reaches for his coat, flaps it out, and reaches to drape it around him. he shuffles almost sheepishly closer to better aid the effort, and it takes a second for his mind to catch up - hawkins fuller, the man behind the screen, putting his coat around him like in some stupid romcom. so he accepts the coat, even awkwardly reaches to pull at his own lapels to tug it closer around him. it does nothing to calm the highspeed ticking of his heart. ]
Sorry, you were leaving and I didn't want to miss you.
[ there was no thought put into this, into the exit from the shop to this moment where he stands a little too close to hawk for the sake of polite society, but not so close to make anyone think twice.
he's about to open his mouth to speak again when hawk's face seems to change - the quirk of his lips, the faintest furrow of his brow over the glasses - he can barely see the blue of his eyes through the dark, reflective lenses. something even colder than the bitter air sinks deep into his belly and his eyes widen a little, breathing coming in quick, shallow breaths from the exertion of running the block or two.
he heard the phone ring - he saw hawk fumbling. he wasn't imagining it. he couldn't have - who else had been on the block when he came out of the shop?
tim glances around them once, back behind them and then leaning to one side to peer even up the street from hawk. no one but a few people who've exited shops or who are walking dogs. he turns his gaze back on hawk then, brow pinched, voice quieter. ]
Skippy. Your Skippy. I was supposed to meet -
[ wait, did he really get this wrong? his mind races, trying to put together all the pieces, trying to somehow stitch together everything to this moment. what had he gotten wrong? or had he simply been hoping the mysterious man behind the screen would always have been someone like hawkins fuller? had he truly created a fantasy now, and tied up the only person who has shown a modicum of care in it. ]
It was you. It had to be you. I saw you, missed the first message. But when you left, you were on your phone and -
[ tim looks stricken, like hawk reached out and struck him across the face instead of politely gathered him into his own coat. tim fumbles for a moment for his phone, fingers working too quickly and he opens the app, sees the myriad of messages they have sent.
if he's wrong, here...
but why would professor fuller lie? why would he do anything like that when everything up to now he has been nothing but honest, even when it had been harsh and difficult. when it had cost him a failing grade, even. a stern hand, but a gentle one. his hand drops to his side, phone in his palm and he looks up at the man then, the flush in his cheeks warming now to something furiously embarrassed, the pink even climbing to the tips of his ears.
his free hand rises to furiously push his hair out of his face, but with the wind, it just sweeps it up, feather light, and makes it a tousled mess atop his head. ]
I, um. Yeah. Sorry, I thought maybe - I just heard - I'm really tired after finals and all, that's all and got confused. I don't want to keep you.
all aboard the gaslight express!
[ tim has little time to reach as hawk reaches for his coat, flaps it out, and reaches to drape it around him. he shuffles almost sheepishly closer to better aid the effort, and it takes a second for his mind to catch up - hawkins fuller, the man behind the screen, putting his coat around him like in some stupid romcom. so he accepts the coat, even awkwardly reaches to pull at his own lapels to tug it closer around him. it does nothing to calm the highspeed ticking of his heart. ]
Sorry, you were leaving and I didn't want to miss you.
[ there was no thought put into this, into the exit from the shop to this moment where he stands a little too close to hawk for the sake of polite society, but not so close to make anyone think twice.
he's about to open his mouth to speak again when hawk's face seems to change - the quirk of his lips, the faintest furrow of his brow over the glasses - he can barely see the blue of his eyes through the dark, reflective lenses. something even colder than the bitter air sinks deep into his belly and his eyes widen a little, breathing coming in quick, shallow breaths from the exertion of running the block or two.
he heard the phone ring - he saw hawk fumbling. he wasn't imagining it. he couldn't have - who else had been on the block when he came out of the shop?
tim glances around them once, back behind them and then leaning to one side to peer even up the street from hawk. no one but a few people who've exited shops or who are walking dogs. he turns his gaze back on hawk then, brow pinched, voice quieter. ]
Skippy. Your Skippy. I was supposed to meet -
[ wait, did he really get this wrong? his mind races, trying to put together all the pieces, trying to somehow stitch together everything to this moment. what had he gotten wrong? or had he simply been hoping the mysterious man behind the screen would always have been someone like hawkins fuller? had he truly created a fantasy now, and tied up the only person who has shown a modicum of care in it. ]
It was you. It had to be you. I saw you, missed the first message. But when you left, you were on your phone and -
[ tim looks stricken, like hawk reached out and struck him across the face instead of politely gathered him into his own coat. tim fumbles for a moment for his phone, fingers working too quickly and he opens the app, sees the myriad of messages they have sent.
if he's wrong, here...
but why would professor fuller lie? why would he do anything like that when everything up to now he has been nothing but honest, even when it had been harsh and difficult. when it had cost him a failing grade, even. a stern hand, but a gentle one. his hand drops to his side, phone in his palm and he looks up at the man then, the flush in his cheeks warming now to something furiously embarrassed, the pink even climbing to the tips of his ears.
his free hand rises to furiously push his hair out of his face, but with the wind, it just sweeps it up, feather light, and makes it a tousled mess atop his head. ]
I, um. Yeah. Sorry, I thought maybe - I just heard - I'm really tired after finals and all, that's all and got confused. I don't want to keep you.