Missing Skippy in Silence, Solo 30/03/25

The city did not quiet down at night, not truly. It simply sank into a lower hum, like it, too, was awaiting something.

Hawk leaned against the kitchen counter from before, sleeves rolled up, drink untouched within his hand. The lights were greatly dimmed, not for any specific mood, just because he hadn’t bothered turning them each on and then the radio was playing something quite low and rather mournful that reminded him extremely much of an empty hallway, a missed train, a voice on the complete other end of a line that never quite came.

His apartment was clean. There was no one around to make a mess. The ashtray simply had not been used during the entire day. The bed was excessively neatly made. And in the bathroom cup, the second toothbrush stood there. Like a question, he didn’t want to answer the question.

It had been weeks. For a night right here, for a stolen hour even there, long enough for just reminding him of absolutely everything he actually was missing, short enough for just making it really hurt. The work completely had swallowed both of them. Hawk had grown accustomed to compartmentalizing, hadn’t he? Wasn’t that the entire point of this existence?

But in tonight, he wasn’t convincing for himself very well.

He put the glass down and went across the room, fingers touching the old leather of the armchair where Tim once slept with a book on his chest, glasses tilted on his nose. He’d looked as if a boy then, innocent in a way that still left Hawk breathless. Vulnerable in a way such as that made Hawk want for locking every door behind of him and to never let the world near for them again.

God, he missed him. Beyond just the warmth of his body, the press of his hands, the sweet, desperate sound he made when he clung to Hawk like he’d never let go. He deeply missed the specific way Tim looked directly at him. It seemed like there was truly something left to actually save in a man such as Hawkins Fuller.

The upcoming days seemed like a chasm. But they’d pass. They always did. When Skippy came again through the door, bright and tousled and there, Hawk would hold him a bit too long, kiss him like he meant it, because he did and tell him all was well.

Even despite it wasn’t as the truth.

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