[ ash is, as always, incapable of simply not. he couldn't just let things lie, let things go on like they'd been, let embry be fucking happy basking in his warmth even if it meant straightening up when someone else looked sideways at them. he had to propose. he had to want to announce to the entire world that he was in love, because ash doesn't know how to be anything but honest. every time he talks to ash — even now — he's reminded of how happy he'd been, how that space right at ash's feet is the only place he's ever felt that sense of rightness and belonging, and ash is the selfish one for not being able to compromise, for taking it all away from him just because he can't understand sacrifice.
his burst of anger dissipates, leaving him hollow again. he doesn't actually believe ash is selfish when he knows what true selfishness is. he sees it every day when he looks in the mirror. ]
I don't mean in the abstract sense. [ he puts a hand over his face, slumped like a drunkard on his couch, his phone resting on his chest where he has ash on speaker. ] I mean if you need me, you know how to take it. No strings. Doesn't change anything.
[ he has to tack on the end, just because it's ash. he still won't give. he still won't take the ring. he still won't hold his fucking hand in public like a teenager in love.
his nose wrinkles at hawk's name, as if he can suddenly smell cigarettes in his house. actually, he would like that. ]
Is what serious?
[ he's not fucking his aide. okay, maybe he is, but not with any frequency that matters. it was once, maybe twice, but if he's too drunk to remember, does it count? do hand and blowjobs count? what does hawk's dick even look like? hard to see it when he's ramming it in his ass.
hawk has never been absent from his phone or his presence for so long since he took on the job, but he gets it now. it's tim. well, embry's also put his tongue in tim's mouth, so there's that. ]
There is no me and Hawkins. He works for me. At least he's supposed to, but he seems like he's forgotten. I like the privacy, though. Should I tell him that Tim and I got wasted and made out in a bar?
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his burst of anger dissipates, leaving him hollow again. he doesn't actually believe ash is selfish when he knows what true selfishness is. he sees it every day when he looks in the mirror. ]
I don't mean in the abstract sense. [ he puts a hand over his face, slumped like a drunkard on his couch, his phone resting on his chest where he has ash on speaker. ] I mean if you need me, you know how to take it. No strings. Doesn't change anything.
[ he has to tack on the end, just because it's ash. he still won't give. he still won't take the ring. he still won't hold his fucking hand in public like a teenager in love.
his nose wrinkles at hawk's name, as if he can suddenly smell cigarettes in his house. actually, he would like that. ]
Is what serious?
[ he's not fucking his aide. okay, maybe he is, but not with any frequency that matters. it was once, maybe twice, but if he's too drunk to remember, does it count? do hand and blowjobs count? what does hawk's dick even look like? hard to see it when he's ramming it in his ass.
hawk has never been absent from his phone or his presence for so long since he took on the job, but he gets it now. it's tim. well, embry's also put his tongue in tim's mouth, so there's that. ]
There is no me and Hawkins. He works for me. At least he's supposed to, but he seems like he's forgotten. I like the privacy, though. Should I tell him that Tim and I got wasted and made out in a bar?