holyposition | IC Inbox

( His attention stays center, but he has peripheral vision he pays no mind to. Gentleman leave love bites, too. )

I don't know Harry. ( He'll concede - and stipulate. And what he read about Harry was a lot worse than Hawkins Fuller: gay icon. Would the press eat it up? Of course. Katherine would print the stationary herself. She'd hire a wedding planner and then plan the damn spectacle itself. It would be the premier event of the season.

Probably at the winery. ) But, you don't talk like that about him. And then I know enough.

( How has he never stopped. Seen his son. For all of his bravado and walls and spiny exterior, he is love undenying. He's missed everything.

Another date. His boy deserves it. Deserves to be doted on. To be held against the end of the boat, to be painted like one of Hawkins' French Girls. ...He shouldn't have fallen asleep to Titanic last night. He blinks the thought away, letting everything settle between them again.

He takes another, longer sip. These are to die for. The martini. And moments. With his son. )

Not for nothing, but nothing about that sounds painful to me.

He’s a good guy.

[ Tim can defend Harry on those grounds, even if it’s pointless to deny the difference in his excitement when it comes to him and the tennis star. Harry’s been nothing if not doting and sweet and accommodating, willing to shell out for fine wine and expensive gifts. He worships at his feet, and it’s hard to deny the sheer force of his attention – but Teo finds himself skittering away when deeper feelings come to the front, like vermin running from the light. He likes him. But deep in his gut, he knows it won’t be more than that, and the longer he waits for Harry to realize it, the harder it’s going to be.

And he’s hardly even thinking about it now. Hypnotized by sun-bleached curls and calloused hands and that All-American golden boy smile. It’s the Salvatore selfishness. ]

Well, it is. [ A smile peeking out, but hidden again, behind his martini. ] He’s so sweet I’m gonna rot my teeth out, if I can’t find a way to fuck it up first.

[ But he will, like he always does. Teo will need more than he can give, but not know how to say it, and hold him at a distance so it doesn’t hurt when he leaves. He knows the routine by now. ]

If it helps any, he denied any and all wrongdoing. And I really raked him across the coals. He's a good friend, at least.

( And maybe a good lay, but that's not his expertise, not when it comes to his son.

He could've admitted it. Admitted his part in his son's life. But he knows he defended Tim as much as he defended himself. He can actually look up to that. He still doesn't get his Bachelor rose, however, on behalf of Teo. )

People aren't fragile, breakable things. They are walking, talking, beating, heart muscles. And the only way to hurt and be hurt in return is to present your own. And there is no guarantee. Someone might get hurt. Someone might fuck up. Royally. And sometimes, that is enough to hold someone back.

( He sighs. )

It's your decision if that sweetness is taken at face value and what you do with it. But, don't do nothing if all you're afraid of, is fucking it up. We're human. And humans fuck shit up. As Americans like to say.

( He smirks, turning his head again, but not removing his glasses. His son can still sense the gleam in his eye. )

Teo, you were born for it. You're a disruptor. You know your mother admires that in you. And so do I. You and me, we just operate differently.

Edited 2025-06-03 19:04 (UTC)

[ Teo...laughs. He doesn’t mean to, and for a brief moment he bites his lip back so that it doesn’t ruin the closest thing to a genuine moment they’ve had in ages, but he can’t help it. His father, Stefano Salvatore, repeating something he read in a Nicholas Sparks novel to make him feel better. It comes from a good place, but the whole situation is so weird that he can’t help himself. He’s never asked his dad for dating advice – why would he, after watching things with his mom fall apart? - and he’s not starting now. Especially when it comes to a man so close to him in age that they could have been schoolmates. He’s still convinced this encouragement is only here because it isn’t Harry.

But it’s something. And he can’t help himself but to burst out laughing, nearly choking on his bougie little sandwich. ]

Oh, my God, papa. I’ll tell you if it turns out to be anything if you promise to stop monologuing.

[ But at least the pink on his face is purely from good, wholesome, father embarrassing his son, instead of any raunchy memories of the night before floating to the surface. ]

Could have fooled me. When I was arrested after pulling down that statue, they could hear you both screaming from here.

[ Exaggeration? Maybe, maybe not. ]

( How long has it been since he's heard his son's laugh. A genuine laugh - directed at him. Now about him. Not in the room with him. Not in the room next to him. But, with him. Because, when his son laughs, he lights up the room.

He doesn't laugh nearly as hard, always the one having to keep it together, but a few chuckles escape.

Because one thing is true as his son's laughter subsides. Normally, he would say "You better," and as much as he might mean it as a joke, he knows how it comes off. And, so he puts it more delicately, under the guise of the sip he takes right after. )

I hope you will.

( Sip.

A long, suffering sigh, because he remembers that night. He holds his glass in hand, though, taken back. )

Here's a secret from me to you. That side of you, your mother is the proudest of. In her eyes, you're standing up. You are doing something. You stand for something. ( In Katherine's eyes, Stefan stands for nothing. He stands in "for" his father, or in place of, under his watchful eye - but he lost her confidence and her admiration a long time ago. ) You can't blame us for expressing emotions at you being arrested and, correct me if I'm wrong, our raised voices were mostly in the direction of the homophobic tax write-offs they call cops. We were worried for you. And they were contemptible. I'm sorry for raising our voices when we got home. You may not remember but your mother and I screamed, mostly, in each other's directions.

[ He watches with an eyebrow raised, fully expecting you better, but pleasantly surprised to hear something more agreeable. The chance he had to be a proper father to Tim is lost to time, and the youngest Salvatore would much rather be treated like an adult now instead of the clumsy efforts to make up for lost time, and this is...a little of both. A step.

Teo finishes his sandwich, quiet for a moment, not sure what to do with the praise. None of his extreme actions, not even the ones he got caught for, not the ones he took the blame for, knowing his parents would handle it, he regrets. They’ve shown that they care about him enough to keep the charges from sticking on him. They have the resources to do more. ]

That cop groped me. [ He didn’t say anything back then. It was the first arrest, he was sixteen and scared enough as it was. ] Not a pat down. A full grab. Franco, too.

[ Would his father even remember the names of the others? Doubtful. ]

As far as I'm concerned, he deserved every word.

( Stefano wishes he was back there. He remembers that night vividly. He remembers the language the officer used, the slurs, the innuendo - long before he deserved it - despite never deserving it. He wishes he could be in the room with that officer for five minutes. Just five minutes.

And just like that, he returns to this spot, a laughing teen girl sliding into the pool.

Despite the severity and seriousness of their conversation, the party rages on. That's Saltburnt for you. )

And Eamon?

( He does. He remembers more than his son thinks. But he has no reason to believe he would. )

I'm sorry you didn't tell us. You could've. ( No. ) You should've.

( His mother would've ran that officer through with her heel. And then her heel.

He turns over again, resting his sunglasses ontop of his head. They'll remain here the rest of the afternoon. )

I'm sorry you were caught between us.

( Because that's what happened, they didn't yell at him. Just over him. They always yelled over him. About him. Rarely at him. He would still draw him close, kiss him on the forehead. Pour him a glass of wine. )

[ He shakes his head. Eamon was handled by a different officer, if anything inappropriate happened, Teo never knew about it. His parents moved him to another school, they haven't kept in touch. ]

I'm not even sure why I'm telling you now.

[ To explain why it didn't scare him straight? Or how the thought of that priest at his school had him escalating to car bombs? ]

It's...

[ Not fine. It's the reason for all of this, the multiple men, the sex tape, the chill in his bones where warmth and excitement should be. But: ]

It is what it is. For what it's worth, I think you'll both be happier, when the divorce is final.

( Her happiness isn't for him to say. And in ways, over the years, he has found happiness. Here and there. Interests Enthusiasm. Business. Otherwise.

A switch has definitely been flipped.

But happiness has different meaning to everything. He has happy days. Happy hours. Happy times. But, is he - happy? Maybe with Niklaus. After a big deal is made. Here and there. )

Happiness isn't everything.

( And with that, he flips back, laying his head down. He stretches an arm behind his head. )

But it's achievable.

( Maybe.

Are you happy? He really wants to ask. He wants to delve, to know everything. But, maybe there's too much. Maybe things take time. He can't force information. He can't force information. And so, again, he falls into a comfortable silence. )

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