[tim doesn't realize that hawk has played that fateful morning over in his head as if on an old, rickety projector - damn near memorized everything that was exchanged between them before he'd left his student out in the cold - literally and metaphorically. most of his break was spent strategizing, wondering how he was going to mitigate this disaster and frankly expecting that not to be the end of it. not because he didn't trust tim's honesty and principles - but because it's just ingrained, second nature never to trust anyone, especially not with the kind of secrets that get you fired or worse, plastered on front page news. loose lips, as they say. but seeing tim now, the way he hesitates to meet fuller's gaze - there's something more eating at him from the inside out. it's not the rejection, which hawk still doesn't fully understand, it's -
oh. of course.
of course timothy laughlin would worry that hawk thought him to be dishonest in some way, that he was disgusted by the idea of his outside activities. it's been a clear misunderstanding, and hawk shakes his head adamantly even as tim's voice escalates and wavers slightly between these raw, heartfelt confessions. if he felt like the air was sucked out of the room before, now it's downright suffocating. these emotions - aren't what he has ever signed up for. not to say that he hasn't offered a box of tissues to a student going through a mental breakdown, or having unexpectedly lost a family member, but this? this is a whole different ballgame, an intimacy created between them that frankly neither signed up for. something he's never navigated, and hopefully never fucking will long after tim graduates.
but for now, he's not going to let the boy just walk around thinking he's dirty because of it.]
Tim.
[he looks up from his desk, pushing the drawer shut before walking back towards him and slotting in close once more. it's almost too easy the way it feels right to be here, just shy of inappropriate. but they're long since past that now, aren't they? hawk tips his head, glancing downward at where tim's eyes are glassy behind his thick lenses.
it'd be a lie to say he didn't see something of himself in there, from once upon a time. a boy who liked pretty things, sensitive friends, grew too attached to them both and lost all of it, along with his father's respect and whatever foolishly optimistic future he thought he might have back then. instead he'd locked it all away and thrown away the key, barricading himself between easy charm and skin-deep connections. his own journey clawing to the surface was a solitary one too, lonely at times - but the difference between the two of them standing here in his office is that hawk refuses to let himself feel it. it would be much easier to tell tim he doesn't know what he's talking about, to give him a generic note of sympathy that he's struggling in matters both personal and professional, give him the snacks and send him off into that same cold and unforgiving world.
but he's not his father. he's not going to do that.]
That's not what I was implying. I needed you to know that I had no idea it was you the whole time - no reason to suspect. None of this was on purpose.
Do you get that?
[even knowing what he does now - it didn't make his mind wander or fall to the worst case scenarios. he doesn't think tim is whoring himself out, doesn't think he's running with disreputable crowds or letting himself fall down some immoral drain.]
I am sorry I made you feel that way. It wasn't the intention. And even if you can't reconcile both of those people - I can. That's why I said nothing has to change. Nothing is changed in the way I think of you.
[but then again, hawk's best skill is his ability to bifurcate the things he doesn't want to know, doesn't want to feel, and keep moving. it's why he refuses to let himself linger on the why you don't want to part, as if he hasn't already spent a few nights with his hand down his pants thinking about all the what ifs - what if he had thrown caution to the wind, what if he'd taken tim to some motel and decided to keep his boy all semester? he shakes his head slightly, partly to clear his head and mainly to refute tim's declarations yet again, leaning in without realizing.]
Eyes on me.
[another order, but this is the most important part.]
You have nothing to be ashamed of. You're doing the best you can. Surviving, the only way you know how. Nothing disappointing about a boy who wants more for himself and strives to make it happen. Quite frankly, there's nothing I respect more.
[hawk reaches up, fingers hesitating for the barest moment - wanting to swipe at the hint of a glistening tear track left behind along tim's nose. instead he reaches into his breast pocket, pulling out a kerchief with a navy HF monogrammed in the corner. his voice lowers, into that rich, graveled timbre of sincerity.]
no subject
oh. of course.
of course timothy laughlin would worry that hawk thought him to be dishonest in some way, that he was disgusted by the idea of his outside activities. it's been a clear misunderstanding, and hawk shakes his head adamantly even as tim's voice escalates and wavers slightly between these raw, heartfelt confessions. if he felt like the air was sucked out of the room before, now it's downright suffocating. these emotions - aren't what he has ever signed up for. not to say that he hasn't offered a box of tissues to a student going through a mental breakdown, or having unexpectedly lost a family member, but this? this is a whole different ballgame, an intimacy created between them that frankly neither signed up for. something he's never navigated, and hopefully never fucking will long after tim graduates.
but for now, he's not going to let the boy just walk around thinking he's dirty because of it.]
Tim.
[he looks up from his desk, pushing the drawer shut before walking back towards him and slotting in close once more. it's almost too easy the way it feels right to be here, just shy of inappropriate. but they're long since past that now, aren't they? hawk tips his head, glancing downward at where tim's eyes are glassy behind his thick lenses.
it'd be a lie to say he didn't see something of himself in there, from once upon a time. a boy who liked pretty things, sensitive friends, grew too attached to them both and lost all of it, along with his father's respect and whatever foolishly optimistic future he thought he might have back then. instead he'd locked it all away and thrown away the key, barricading himself between easy charm and skin-deep connections. his own journey clawing to the surface was a solitary one too, lonely at times - but the difference between the two of them standing here in his office is that hawk refuses to let himself feel it. it would be much easier to tell tim he doesn't know what he's talking about, to give him a generic note of sympathy that he's struggling in matters both personal and professional, give him the snacks and send him off into that same cold and unforgiving world.
but he's not his father. he's not going to do that.]
That's not what I was implying. I needed you to know that I had no idea it was you the whole time - no reason to suspect. None of this was on purpose.
Do you get that?
[even knowing what he does now - it didn't make his mind wander or fall to the worst case scenarios. he doesn't think tim is whoring himself out, doesn't think he's running with disreputable crowds or letting himself fall down some immoral drain.]
I am sorry I made you feel that way. It wasn't the intention. And even if you can't reconcile both of those people - I can. That's why I said nothing has to change. Nothing is changed in the way I think of you.
[but then again, hawk's best skill is his ability to bifurcate the things he doesn't want to know, doesn't want to feel, and keep moving. it's why he refuses to let himself linger on the why you don't want to part, as if he hasn't already spent a few nights with his hand down his pants thinking about all the what ifs - what if he had thrown caution to the wind, what if he'd taken tim to some motel and decided to keep his boy all semester? he shakes his head slightly, partly to clear his head and mainly to refute tim's declarations yet again, leaning in without realizing.]
Eyes on me.
[another order, but this is the most important part.]
You have nothing to be ashamed of. You're doing the best you can. Surviving, the only way you know how. Nothing disappointing about a boy who wants more for himself and strives to make it happen. Quite frankly, there's nothing I respect more.
[hawk reaches up, fingers hesitating for the barest moment - wanting to swipe at the hint of a glistening tear track left behind along tim's nose. instead he reaches into his breast pocket, pulling out a kerchief with a navy HF monogrammed in the corner. his voice lowers, into that rich, graveled timbre of sincerity.]
I trust you - [skippy.]
Do you still trust me?