[SALTBURNT AU INBOX]

[homosexuals]

WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK

USERNAME:
HZF

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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.

📨 delivery

[hymen]

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

@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.

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.

@timmyyyyy

[holyposition]

Good morning Mr. Fuller. 😉

What are you doing on Friday night?

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?

text — un: cunt

[ghostface]

hi, apa (:
guess who

@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.