[ Through toil and trouble, heartbreak and anger, there's still no world where he doesn't care for Hawk through his grief. The love will always be there, for the rest of his life, he's sure, and even if it's strained right now, Tim will always have a shoulder for him to lean on. If only Hawk could find it in him to actually use it, before something as dramatic as the death of someone close smacked some emotion into him.

He sighs, stroking the back of Hawk's head, pressing his nose to the crown and breathing him in. Cigarette smoke, the soft musk of the end of the day. It makes his eyes feel heavy, a Pavlovian response telling him to settle, to curl up and sleep in the safety of Hawk's arms. Tomorrow, he'll tell himself it's the wine he drank before texting him. It'll be a lie. ]

...I miss you too. And I think you know that.

[ Tim doesn't know how he can make it any clearer what he needs from him, and he keeps insisting that he can't give it. Are they not at an impasse, then? Hawk says that he's sorry, but nothing changes. It's not the time to call him out on it. ]

We don't have to talk about that right now. I'll be here all night. Get some sleep, okay?