[ jesus fuck, he's about to lose it. hawk comes closer and all embry wants to do is bury his face in the shoulder of his suit, to envelop himself in his familiar vetiver scent, to block out the world until nothing exists but the press of his body to hawk's. he should've never stopped chasing whatever the thing was that existed between them, leaving himself open to his old, ruinous habits that always, always lead to a sticky, intoxicated, devastating end. it's the story of his goddamn life, that he blows every chance he gets and then deserves it every time the blade drops right onto his neck.

of course hawk suspected. hawk knows him better than he knows himself, and the thought is just as frightening as how he's drifting away from ash as the months go by. ]

Yes — I don't know. [ if he trusts him. if he trusts anyone right now, if he even wants anyone to help. he would lie in this goddamn bed and let the press eat him alive if it didn't mean risking ash's entire career. ] I fucked up. God, I fucked up.

[ his breath hitches as he leans into the fleeting brush of hawk's fingers, squeezing his eyes shut for a brief moment to expel the tears that keep threatening to fall, his lashes spiked when he opens them again. he can't cry here, even if he wants to sob like a goddamn baby, something like shock settling over him like a gossamer web. his hair falls into his eyes as he tips forward to rest his forehead against hawk's chest, guilt poisoning his tongue. he's not good enough for hawk's sympathy, for his comfort. not after this. ]

You have to watch it. [ he slides his hand into hawk's pocket, his fingers closing around his phone, shoving it against him once he pulls it out. he ignores the tremor in his fingers, misery and anger squeezing his heart. ] It's your goddamn job to watch it.