Lovelink: Hugo Hornsby (Bored)
Rating: PG
Word count: 1603
Summary: Hugo Hornsby is late, and Isadora can’t help but feel herself slipping out of his life. Maybe some love fizzles out just like this; tired and bored.
"The games you played were never fun
You'd say you'd stay but then you'd run"
Bored. Isadora hunched forward over the diner counter and rested her cheek against her fist, very slowly rolling her eyes. He was late, again, and that was becoming an unfamiliar habit. She was getting bored. The last time she had seen him, she was walking around her apartment in her underwear, making him a coffee while he awaited on the couch. He stared at her hips while rambling on about planetary disease and she just nodded along. Two weeks later, he was...
"Late. So late. I know, I'm so fucking sorry." Hugo Hornsby scrambled onto the neighbouring stool and tossed his wallet down on the counter.
Isadora both cringed and laughed inside when his voice dropped to a whisper as he swore, then rose again with an emphatic sorry.
His cheeks were ruddy and the brown sugar hair upon his head was unkempt. He slept in. And regardless, she was charmed, hidden deep beneath her impatience. Hugo Hornsby was sort of ravishing.
"Good morning, Hugo."
"No smile for your best friend?"
She frowned, deeply, just in time for a waitress to set a cup of coffee in front of Hugo with a lightly toasted bagel with too much butter. They'd only gone to this diner for a few months, but everyone knew their orders quite quickly. It was just far enough from the city that they almost forgot about the real lives waiting for them back home. Almost.
"I'm starting to get the feeling that you don't have time for friends, Hugo. You bailed on Taylor Thursday night too." He flinched, and Isadora braced herself for a pang of guilt, despite its truth.
"Taylor was a mistake, I already talked to him about it. If you two aren't dating anymore, why does he talk to you so much anyways?"
"Bitter-bug." If he was going to act like a child, so would she.
"What did you call me?" His brows furrowed, a crease forming behind the bangs that kept falling in his face.
"You're bitter that Taylor thinks I'm cooler than you. And why we talk is no longer your business, we're allowed to be friends. You introduced us to each other, it's not our fault we're close."
The dating ruse had been fun while it lasted, but soon it became clear that there was a lot more complexity to Hugo and Sally's relationship. They'd been so close, Sally almost gave in. But even if she had, would Hugo have chosen Isadora after everything that had happened? She wasn't sure she would have settled for being a rebound if it was Sally's decision to leave.
"I suppose that one is on me. And I am sorry I'm late, I spent my Friday night marking thirty science tests in my least favourite unit."
"You don't have a least favourite unit," she said bluntly. "How was date night with Sal?"
Hugo shrugged sheepishly, a bit guilty but mostly embarrassed by his lie. She knew he missed their original date night that week because there was no obligatory Instagram post about it. She hated that she knew the inside workings of his whole life. He was very predictable, even if he wasn't calling her as much anymore.
"I wanted to take her to the restaurant her parents brought us to when we graduated, but it was three hours away. We drove all of the way there and it was closed, then got stuck in traffic the whole way home. She's back to not talking to me, again."
"She should have killed you."
"Isadora?" He stared at her so earnestly her heart began to slow, anticipation like a heavy rock on her chest. Time was slow around Hugo, love took a lot more patience than she ever dreamed. "What am I doing?"
Breaking my heart, she silently lamented.
"You're living whatever life you chose for yourself. Very few people choose, Hugo. Don't you feel lucky?"
Maybe it was cruel, but she couldn't look at him as she said it. She wanted him to recoil, to show a glimpse of misery or regret for what could have been. She just didn't want to see it, it would make her too sad to sit next him and know he hurt just as much as her. For what? That was a good question.
Maybe the only look on his face was content and at peace with his choices. Maybe he wasn't hurting like her at all. She couldn't bear to see that either.
"I'm very happy for everything I have. I suppose I could consider myself lucky."
When she finally looked, she really couldn't read what he was feeling. All she knew was that she was soaking up every ounce of exhaustion clinging to the air like radiation. And it all came from Hugo. Who was he these days? Was everyone losing him like this or was it just her?
"I've been thinking about something lately. You don't text me anymore, I know we hang out here and there. I don't want to seem ungrateful, but I miss waiting to see your name pop up on my phone during a long shift. It used to make my day, talking to you about the little things. Once upon a time we were just friends on an app and nothing else mattered." Back when it was hopeful to fall in love with him, when he made promises.
Not promises, she supposed, declarations maybe. Ideas. Dreams that turned into bad ideas.
"I miss you too. I know it's been different for a while, I've been torn in so many directions I don't have a brain left to communicate with some days. It's a lousy excuse, but I know how different it's been. It's not just... I really do miss you, I promise."
"Just text me, if you think about me some days and have the time. You don't have to waste any thoughts on me, ever. But if you do," she shrugged.
Hugo rubbed his eyes, sighed a little. "No thought of you is ever a waste, and if I were to text you every time I thought about you, you'd swear I was obsessed with you."
A sad smirk curled Isadora's lip and she leaned a little into his side. They sat facing the kitchen, not looking at each other, shoulder to shoulder.
"Not if I answered back to every one. Then we'd both be obsessed, that would be pretty pathetic I suppose."
"Incurably pathetic." His voice was smooth with a gentle authoritative tone that came from years of teaching.
The romantics dream, a very simple foundation to it at least, is to find someone who actively chooses you. Hugo Hornsby woke up some days and chose Sally, as he had for about a decade prior to meeting Isadora. Then there were other days, when he came over for dinner with her favourite snacks in a bag and sleek button up shirt, almost always green, with a smile just for her. And she swore, however delusional she may have been, that he chose her over and over again.
And then he'd leave. Rinse... repeat.
"Taylor mentioned that they have more auditions on Monday night, I was hoping you'd have time to binge Ito's new cooking show. Netflix gave him a wicked budget; there's a whole episode about trying to teach the prince to make desserts for his fiancee."
Hugo's dimples framed a wide smile, his deep blue eyes sharp under the harsh diner lights. "That sounds perfect! How about I bring some of the wine Sally and I made last summer?"
Isadora nodded, despite the notion of drinking that wine seeming slightly sacrilegious. They'd only ever gotten drunk together one other time, and during a particularly harsh wind storm. She fell asleep on the couch and woke up at 4am, holding Hugo's hand from where he laid unconscious on the floor. No matter how tight she had squeezed, he hadn't woken up. Isadora had cried silently for what seemed like ages, wondering if it was her first and last time to ever hold his hand.
She could never hold his hand in public, never kiss his lips in private, never feel his body curl around hers in a bed they couldn't share. Hugo Hornsby was not her fiance, or boyfriend, or lover.
He was just her friend, shoulder to shoulder with her in a diner on the off-beaten path outside of town.
"If you're bringing wine, I'll provide the cheese. Actually, I'll grab some back up wine too, the temperature drops Monday and we're in for a cold night."
"Perfect!" He cheered excitedly, earning a dirty look from a rather tired looking waitress.
"You're perfect," Isadora smiled. She swore Hugo even blushed. Did he blush for Sally? Did she ever try to get such a reaction from her partner?
"Isadora?" She stared at him expectantly and wondered if she could ever get sick of hearing him say her name. Her arm was still pressed tightly against his side, to the point that she was almost falling off of the stool.
"Yes, Hugo?"
"The butterflies don't go away," he whispered. Those blue eyes were dimmer, dimples disappearing into a tightened jaw. Isadora looked away and rested her head on his shoulder, for just a second. She pretended it was to comfort him and not herself.
"Everything dies, Hugo. Especially the butterflies."
He should know that... it happened with Sally, didn't it?
"And when you walk out the door and leave me torn
You're teaching me to live without it"
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