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Hawk sat down with a heavy sigh, empty glazed look fixed on the glass of water in front of him. Cloudy, tepid, probably too chlorinated, it felt like a rusty coin on his tongue and exacerbated the painful growl in his stomach. Unsatisfying, he noted, unable to get the sticky, metallic taste out of his mouth.
Marcus pulled out the chair on the other side of the table and the scraping sounds of wooden legs on concrete flooring echoed in the café like hollow cries. He slowly lowered himself, allowing some time to examine Hawk’s feverish eyes and the grays in his dishevelled hair. He cupped Hawk’s hand to stop the nervous tapping of his nails on the table and moved the overflowing ashtray to the side.
“Thought I’d never see two things.” Marcus said. “And I am seeing them both today.”
Hawk raised his eyebrow in question.
“Hawkins Fuller separated from his grooming kit. Tut tut. At some point, I thought you were married to your comb and nail clippers.”
“It’s in Tim’s room.” Hawk answered as if he suddenly remembered. “But I don’t think it’s been used since I got here.”
“I can see…”
Marcus and his brutal, refreshing honesty. Only God knows how much I need him right now, Hawk thought, simultaneously puzzled, perhaps a tad entertained that God was crossing his mind at this moment, and relieved to feel Marcus’s calm, grounding presence.
“What about the second one?”
Hawk had to ask, but he also felt guilty for that little bud of a smile that threatened to make him feel a semblance of joy for the first time in a week. Nobody in this world could feel joy, least of all him when Tim was lying in there waiting to…
“Hawkins Fuller choosing water over single malt. A moment for the history books.”
Marcus always had that serious, solemn look on his face, Hawk realised, despite having the most sophisticated, bite-y sense of humour Hawk has ever known. It has saved Hawk more than once.
The smile reached Hawk’s eyes at the same time as the tear. He was grateful that Marcus pretended not to notice. His pride and his sanity needed that little courtesy that only a man like Marcus could allow. Because he fully understood it.
“Marcus…I need to…ask you something.” Hawk coughed and lifted the glass up to smooth out the thorns in his throat.
“Feel free to stop me at any time, to slap some sense into me, to drag me out of here and leave me in the rain until my mind is cleared OR to mock me for the rest of my life…”
Marcus nodded and tightened the grip on Hawk’s hand, stopping him from trying to light up another cigarette or hide his face.
No more hiding, Hawkins Fuller. Not today.
“Are you ever…afraid, Marcus? Afraid that a day will come when that special one in your life will no longer be able to smile at you, to inspire you, to set your loins on fire – or, in your case, to take over your wardrobe with flamboyant clothes and feather boas and cook you bad pasta?”
Something barely visible but tangibly soft briefly surfaced in Marcus’s eyes.
“…To look at you”, Hawk continued, “with those eyes that have the whole world in them, the only eyes that drive you mad, with desire or exasperation, it doesn’t matter, but also make you feel safe and human? The eyes that you know you will disappear without, because you will never matter that much to anyone. Sounding like a mad man here, Marcus, but is there anything scarier than being afraid that the days when you can put your fingers in his hair are numbered, and when he is gone, and you are gone, nobody will know about those quiet moments of joy when you wake up and realise he is here? He exists, he gives your life meaning and purpose like nobody else, even if he is not always around…Nobody will know how his heart jumps in his chest when he dances, how cute he looks with spinach in his teeth and how his wrinkles and vulnerability somehow make him even more YOURS because they mean he aged with YOU, and he chooses you again and again. With every little speckle of grey in his hair, with every orgasm of his that sends him beyond this world in YOUR arms. Are you afraid that what you feel for him is so big, you can’t simply hide it in the pockets of time, that it has be out - venerated, celebrated, made love to, screamed about? That, in a twisted way, death puts an end to it all but it also does you a favour because how can you LIVE with something that grows inside you every day for decades but also how can you live WITHOUT it? Are you afraid that it’s the only feeling that can prevail and break the silly constraints of our limited time here and you didn’t always give it what it deserved? Are you afraid that someone has made you so, so vulnerable with the tender power of his embrace, with the way his body melted into yours that you almost resent him for turning you into a powerless blend where the two of you have no beginning and no end, only togetherness? Are you afraid someone has stolen from you the ability to be you, but you actually don’t want to be “YOU” anymore because only “us” matters? Are you afraid, Marcus…?”
Hawk couldn’t continue. Marcus went silent for a second, unsure if all was said or Hawk needed more time to find the words. He leaned back and rubbed the back of Hawk’s hand caringly.
“Every. Single. Day…”
“Now multiply that by a thousand, Marcus, and you will probably get an idea of how I feel. Frankie is good, he is healthy. You have a long time ahead of you to love each other. He isn't lying down in a small room that smells of death, “ Hawk’s voice disappeared into the lump in this throat. “…with his body wasting away by the day...”
“I know I can’t make it any better for you, Hawk.” Marcus said each word intently. “But please know that, as long as I am living, I will NOT let you fall, and nothing will ever change that…”
He leaned in again, his rigid expression as difficult to read as ever, and added:
“You crazy motherfucker! Third thing I thought I’d never see. Hawkins Fuckin’ Fuller turned out to be a better poet than me.”
Hawk’s eyes glistened with relief and gratitude. Someone gets it. Someone gets HIM.
“Are you questioning my sanity?” Hawk swallowed and somewhat sheepishly attempted to fix his hair.
“Ask me this again when you buy me some coffee…Or something stronger!”
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