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It was as though Hawk thought Tim would disappear if he did not keep his eyes on him.
Ever since they met, Hawk liked to look at Tim. His eyes pierced through clouds of smoke during election parties, softened in the calming haze of post coital air. Tim felt Hawk’s eyes on him whenever they were in the same room not unlike the unrelenting gaze of God; all powerful, all knowing, something Tim ached for.
The power he held over Tim should have terrified him. To have your entire heart in someone else’s palm should have felt nauseating, but Tim found it freeing to know his love was cradled in Hawk’s palms where it could go wherever he went. And while Tim handed Hawk everything he had, fistful by adoring fistful, he knew the most Hawk would ever give him in return were his silent glances. He may not have liked it, but he understood it.
Tim knew better than to call Hawk out on it for fear that he would stop. He did not know how he would function without knowing somewhere in the back of his mind, he was being gazed upon fondly.
It seemed that others, however, did not hold the same restraint.
“He is so obvious,” Mary said over lunch one day in a quiet voice.
Tim put his glass down. “Only because you know what you’re looking for,” he replied. “Besides, they can’t fire you for how you look at someone.”
“But they can for how you walk or hold a book,” Mary said. She folded her napkin elegantly. “Hawkins is not someone to deny himself pleasure at the expense of others, but I’m sure that is not news to you.”
“We’ve made it this far,” Tim said. He bristled slightly at Mary’s tone, one of familiar sisterly worry. In the back of his mind, he thought her and Maggie would get along like a house on fire.
“There is always a chance,” she whispered before looking away quickly. “Trust me, I know the risks.”
Tim gently placed a hand on her clenched one atop the table, suddenly pained. “I’m sorry Mary, I didn’t mean to imply-“
“Don’t apologize,” Mary said with a soft smile. “You never do mean any harm Tim. Because you’re a good person, a better person than you may think.” She flipped her hand and intertwined their fingers. “But this world is not kind to good people. It was not kind to Caroline, and if you and Hawkins are not careful, it will not be kind to you.”
“What about Hawk?” Tim found himself asking.
Mary squeezed his hand with a sad look in her eye. “Like I said. The world is not kind to good people.”
Tim bit back his defense of Hawk; Mary didn’t know the story behind all the looks. She could not comprehend what it meant to have Hawk’s attention or to be the only other person alive with him. It was yet another sin to purge, forgive me Father for I have sinned, I have gorged myself on my lover’s attention.
He remembered the letter Hawk had him write, the one he gave to Mary and the one she gave to the M unit. Good people doing bad things, bad people doing good things…
“Well,” Tim said gently, “then it looks like I have my work cut out for me, trying to make things right in the world.”
At that point, Mary leveled him with a look that was unlike any he had ever felt. Gone were the whispers of the other patrons of the diner, it shrank to become the two of them isolated. Mary looked at Tim as though he were from another planet; it was as though she was disassembling him and looking at his components to see what fit together.
Then, she said, “Hawkins could live for a million years and never deserve you, I hope you know that.”
“It’s not about deserving, it's about what I want to give,” Tim replied as he brought his hands back to his lap. He was used to being loved silently in return, his love for Hawk felt godly in that way.
Tim took a sip of his drink as Mary attempted to make sense of him in her head.
He knew from experience she would be at it for a while.