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[homosexuals]

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@boule – voicemail

[dwelt]

[because he doesn't do texting and he called hawk while the plane was landing. some shuffling in the background as he makes his way to the terminal. he sounds a bit tired, but entirely affectionate. short and sweet and to the point.]

Mon loup, I'm going to be at Saltburnt soon. Call me when you get this.

[homosexuals]

[there is no hesitation whatsoever - the second he gets the call, he picks up and dials august back. there is a pull he's never been able to explain, as if he's under a spell every time august is in the vicinity or his ear. it makes him think back to that night - christ, he wishes he could remember it better. it's very hazy.]

Not soon enough. You've got a bit of catching up to do, but it sounds like you might need some rest first.

How bout dinner and I tuck you in, huh?

[dwelt]

[there he is. august picks up on the second ring with a liquid-smooth voice, someone who's mastered the correct tone and inflection for whomever he's talking to. he knows how hawk likes him to sound.]

Do I? [a faux submission, playful but seductive.] Are you going to warm some milk for me, too?

📨 delivery

[hymen]

[ resting atop your pillow: a luxe, cream envelope, your name embossed in gold letters, holding a textured invitation — ]

voicemail

[homosexuals]

[after some nervousness and deciding whether or not to send a formal letter back, he opts for a voicemail. hawk sounds nothing but genuine, gracious and grateful, like he can't really believe he earned one in the first place. he's just a tennis guy, for christ's sake.]

Mr. Moore - I'm truly honored for the invite. Thank you for your consideration.

I'll happily accept, and if it isn't too forward - maybe I'll have the pleasure of shaking your hand. You and the President have done great things for the country together.

Looking forward to the 14th. Thank you again.

@dr.graham

[disarrayed]

Hawkins.

Although I should question how we both ended up here, I'm glad to see you're enjoying more than just the four walls of your home.

[ no, really. he's proud that hawk is out and about and doing things. especially over the last couple years. ]

Try to enjoy yourself. I'll expect a full report when we meet again. This place has a menagerie of rooms. Pick one, that's where our next session will be.

[homosexuals]

Dr. Graham! What a pleasant surprise.

It's a funny story - I'll have to tell you the full one when I see you next. The long story short is: I met the Balfours in college. We kept in touch. Rosie's my goddaughter: the sweetest damn thing you'll ever see.

Yes, of course, though if you're on a sabbatical too I'd hate to interrupt. Otherwise - how about the hunting lodge?

[disarrayed]

Even if I was on a sabbatical I would make time for you. We've known one another for a long time, so it never feels like work. And never an interruption.

But you know the Balfours? I'd love to hear the story - the hunting lodge seemed quiet when I passed it on my morning walk. I think we'll have a great deal of privacy there.

It's a beautiful estate - I have other clients here, so it's for work, but I can't complain. They have an extensive liquor stock - maybe a finger of brandy for our hunting?

text - un: 💋💋💋💋

[nishtha]

I thought it was you I saw at breakfast. Big fan. Watched you come back from 0-5, 0-40 at Wimbledon. You're so much hotter in person.

[homosexuals]

Oh - that's extremely flattering of you. Very kind. Really.

[how does he take a compliment like this!!]

I'm awfully sorry if I missed you at breakfast. I'm - well I guess you know already, but I'm Hawkins Fuller. I'm Rosie Balfour's godfather, as a matter of fact.

[and the proudest there ever was!! shut up hawk.]

Tell me about you?

[nishtha]

Rosie's the one who gave me your number. 😉 I owe her one. Or maybe more if this leads to more than just texting. 😜

My name is Armand Kamali. I'm here to appraise some of the Balfour artworks and so my sister can get over her ex-husband.

@timmyyyyy

[holyposition]

Good morning Mr. Fuller. 😉

What are you doing on Friday night?

[homosexuals]

Skippy - hi honey.

I sure hope I'll be spending it with you.

[holyposition]

Honey already? Careful, Hawk. You don't know the half of it yet.

It'll be my birthday. If that's not too much pressure.

text | un: @jace

[vermax]

( Is it a misfire? Is it a sneaky way to talk to a hot new guest? Is he going to play at responsible house help, even though that's not what he is at all? Who knows. ) Are you settling in alright? Is there anything we can do to improve your stay?

[homosexuals]

That's very kind of you to check in, Mr. Jace. Everything has been wonderful, no complaints here.

Are you part of the staff or the welcome committee?

[vermax]

Just Jace. No one calls me Mr. anything, though Lord Strong wouldn’t be wrong either :)

And good. Always glad to hear. If anything changes, do let me know.

Just the Welcome Committee while I’m here. Have you had a chance to see the courts?

text — un: cunt

[ghostface]

hi, apa (:
guess who

[homosexuals]

I know who.

C'mon, you're too good and too handsome to have a foul name like that attached to you, Danny.

[ghostface]

don't say that to my daddy, he'll come back with a receipt full of fouls

( and danny's fouls are very expensive. )

i missed you
haven't seen you since that thing in montreal

@timmyyyyy; voice

[holyposition]

[ After yesterday’s gossip post blow up in which he dumped Harry and dug himself into an even deeper hole with Hawk, Timoteo’s been laying low. He wasn’t at dinner, he wasn’t at breakfast. He wasn’t at the gym, or the pool, or the lake, or even at the library. He’s been keeping to his room, packing his bags and feeling sorry for himself, checking his phone every time he hears the chime, only to throw it back down in disappointment.

He almost calls a dozen times. The closer he gets to the bottom of this bottle of chablis the longer his finger hovers over the button, until finally, finally, he tries. ]

Hawk...’m sorry. If you want me to leave I will.

[homosexuals]

[hawk hasn't been laying low per se, but it's hard not to notice tim's prominent absence. he wouldn't lie and say it doesn't hurt any less - but this is the way it should be for awhile. and maybe this is the way it should be period, tim wrapping up the rest of his summer without a bang and finding himself instead of his way into older men's beds. part of him wonders if he's made as much of an embarrassment of himself as harry did too, mooning after a kid that much younger.

it did mean something.

that's the only thing that keeps running through his mind now and again when he glances out at the lake or stops too long from volleying listless serves across the tennis courts with partners he barely registers the name of.

he takes dinner in his room, excusing himself to rosie as under the weather even if she looks like she doesn't believe him. an early night in ought to do him some good, though he's worried what kind of dreams are going to plague him tonight. he's read the same page of some boring book about being a good coach before he's about to give up, saved by the ring of his phone. the name on caller id is not the one he was expecting.]

...Tim?

[he sounds...upset. drunk, too, but that's not the part that worries him.]

Hey, you don't need to leave. If it's anything this mansion is big enough for the both of us.

[there's an amused snort, trying to lighten the mood. he doesn't want to let the flicker of something hopeful ignite from this. people call when they're drunk all the time, it doesn't have to mean anything.]

[holyposition]

[ It meant something. When's the last time he admitted that? It's been years. Since secondary school, sweet Roberto, who he thought would be with him, through thick and thin. He loved him, or at least, he thought he did. He was excited to be with him, to dream about a life together, but when he left, when Teo proved himself to be too stubborn, too militant, too much...it didn't feel like this.

It made him feel empty. As if he were a fool for hoping, for believing that he was worth the attention, that he could have the kind of love that was divorced from how much trouble he was in or how much money he had, or whether he was taking over the family business or not. He was a fool, because he was destined to be abandoned, doomed to be ignored. That heartbreak was written in the stars. There's no other way it could have gone.

Hawk pulling back feels different. Like a full blown panic attack, or being held under ice water while he thrashes, looking for a way out of it. Not destined, but a shock to the system, a slap that restores senses he'd long given up on. He wants to run to him. He wants to hop on a plane and never look back. He wants Hawk. And the implications of that are too horrifying to name. ]

I don't want it to be.

[ That doesn't make any sense. Blame it on the alcohol. Teo runs his hand over his face, wiping at his glassy eyes. ]

I mean, I...I don't want to avoid you. I want to make it up to you. If you'd let me. If I haven't ruined everything.

@il sangre

[interpersonally]

Timoteo told me the good news. I hope you can make an appearance the next time he returns to Italy.

[homosexuals]

Mr. Salvatore - thanks for the invitation. And for your blessing. Took a little bit of a bumpy ride, but I think we made it. Good thing I like sailing, which I'm really hoping he and I can do off the coast.

How're you and your "someone"?