save-the-horse

[save-the-horse]

Harlen can't help but chuckle at Hank's comment about his mother's food. Not because he's wrong — no, Harlen's mother can cook — but because he's so enthusiastic about it. He's missed that: Hank's enthusiasm. He also isn't really awake enough to give a proper response that's in English. He should teach Hank Italian at some point.

He can only hum quietly when a blanket is placed over him, getting a little more comfortable where he's sitting; he's not moving for a while. "Grazie.." he mumbles, pretty much completely asleep.

Hank receives a voicenote. It's been a common occurrence since Harlen got his number, especially since Harlen's hands are usually busy when he wants to talk to Hank.

But this one comes with the familiar sounds of being on the road. Harlen's driving somewhere.

He sounds exhausted as he speaks, voice holding an air of distraction as he's focused on the road.

"Hi, Puddin', just wanted to ask," he begins, pausing briefly to make a turn. "What's your address?" It would be an odd question if Harlen hadn't just driven into New York.

He did say he'd visit soon.

@save-the-horse

When Hank first hears the voice note, he assumes that maybe Harlen just wants to send him something. But the fact that he's asking while driving and the exhaustion in his tone is enough to convince Hank otherwise.

He didn't... did he? Shit.

It's a double-edged sword right in the gut. He's fucking ecstatic at the prospect of seeing Harlen in person. His mood has improved significantly since they've started talking again. But there's so much he doesn't know... so much Hank can't let him know.

He can do this. Focus on the positives. Don't fuck this up.

At least his apartment is clean, but he definitely needs to take out the trash. A shower wouldn't hurt, either. And he's not too hungover, at least. He's carrying bags down the stairs while calling Harlen. "Whatcha up to, Harley?" He asks with a chuckle. "You in town or somethin'?"

There's no hiding his excitement. Not when it comes to Harlen.

[save-the-horse]

Harlen doesn't quite notice the flush that rises to Hank's face, on account of him blinking for just a little too long before Hank starts leading him to his apartment. God, he might just pass out the moment he sits down at this rate.

"Jus' food... Oh, Mamma made you an- a pie," Harlen says as he follows Hank down the hall, the word 'apple' slipping his mind momentarily. Words are already difficult enough for him without sleep deprivation.

Always a mannersable person, Harlen takes off his shoes pretty much the moment he enters the house, before immediately plopping himself on the couch, already half asleep. "Thank you, Puddin'," he mumbles with a yawn.

Hank receives a voicenote. It's been a common occurrence since Harlen got his number, especially since Harlen's hands are usually busy when he wants to talk to Hank.

But this one comes with the familiar sounds of being on the road. Harlen's driving somewhere.

He sounds exhausted as he speaks, voice holding an air of distraction as he's focused on the road.

"Hi, Puddin', just wanted to ask," he begins, pausing briefly to make a turn. "What's your address?" It would be an odd question if Harlen hadn't just driven into New York.

He did say he'd visit soon.

@save-the-horse

When Hank first hears the voice note, he assumes that maybe Harlen just wants to send him something. But the fact that he's asking while driving and the exhaustion in his tone is enough to convince Hank otherwise.

He didn't... did he? Shit.

It's a double-edged sword right in the gut. He's fucking ecstatic at the prospect of seeing Harlen in person. His mood has improved significantly since they've started talking again. But there's so much he doesn't know... so much Hank can't let him know.

He can do this. Focus on the positives. Don't fuck this up.

At least his apartment is clean, but he definitely needs to take out the trash. A shower wouldn't hurt, either. And he's not too hungover, at least. He's carrying bags down the stairs while calling Harlen. "Whatcha up to, Harley?" He asks with a chuckle. "You in town or somethin'?"

There's no hiding his excitement. Not when it comes to Harlen.

[save-the-horse]

Harlen almost melts at the way Hank hugs him. Gods, he's missed hugs like this: firm and comforting — they feel like home. Not home as in Texas, home as in his grandmother's old house in Italy. Home is where the heart is and he supposes a part of his heart resides in Hank.

The only reason Harlen isn't upset when Hank pulls away is because it's the first time he's been able to get a proper look at him in years. "You look even better, Puddin'," he says in response, smiling warmly at Hank. He's so fucking pretty, moreso than Harlen remembers.

Harlen manages to at least reach for his bag, though isn't pleased with him about it. "Nope. Did bring you somethin' though." Part of the reason his bag is so heavy: two large Tupperware boxes of homeade chicken and dumplings, as well as a smaller container of apple pie (courtesy of Harlen's mother).

Hank receives a voicenote. It's been a common occurrence since Harlen got his number, especially since Harlen's hands are usually busy when he wants to talk to Hank.

But this one comes with the familiar sounds of being on the road. Harlen's driving somewhere.

He sounds exhausted as he speaks, voice holding an air of distraction as he's focused on the road.

"Hi, Puddin', just wanted to ask," he begins, pausing briefly to make a turn. "What's your address?" It would be an odd question if Harlen hadn't just driven into New York.

He did say he'd visit soon.

@save-the-horse

When Hank first hears the voice note, he assumes that maybe Harlen just wants to send him something. But the fact that he's asking while driving and the exhaustion in his tone is enough to convince Hank otherwise.

He didn't... did he? Shit.

It's a double-edged sword right in the gut. He's fucking ecstatic at the prospect of seeing Harlen in person. His mood has improved significantly since they've started talking again. But there's so much he doesn't know... so much Hank can't let him know.

He can do this. Focus on the positives. Don't fuck this up.

At least his apartment is clean, but he definitely needs to take out the trash. A shower wouldn't hurt, either. And he's not too hungover, at least. He's carrying bags down the stairs while calling Harlen. "Whatcha up to, Harley?" He asks with a chuckle. "You in town or somethin'?"

There's no hiding his excitement. Not when it comes to Harlen.

[save-the-horse]

Harlen hasn't been Okay recently.

He hasn't been sleeping, his appetite has been outrageously small and, above all, he's different now. Not just in behaviour but in appearance too — his teeth are sharper, his jaw stronger, and his eyes hold an odd glow, like something radioactive. On top of that, his pupils dilate when he's really focused on something, like a cat. It's almost embarrassing.

But his behaviour has been even stranger since his returned, though he supposes that 25 years in space will do that to a person. He growls when annoyed, bares his teeth when frightened — he's been so jumpy recently, practically startled by everything he was once so familiar with.

And his eyes are so sensitive now; the very presence of any light brighter than a tealight burns, like he's been staring directly at the sun.

But all in all, he's so glad to be home, even if everything's different now. 12 years feels like so much longer when it's spent in other dimensions.

[save-the-horse]

Harlen only manages to make it halfway up the first flight of steps when he sees Hank — he'd normally be quicker but his bag's really heavy and he nearly forgot how to walk in the time it took to get here.

Yet even as exhaustion spreads to the rest of his body, he can't help but smile when Hank looks at him, jogging up the last couple of steps to meet him. "Hank!"

He doesn't even have a chance to think about the action before he's pulling Hank into a tight hug, still practically beaming with joy. "I've missed you..."

Hank receives a voicenote. It's been a common occurrence since Harlen got his number, especially since Harlen's hands are usually busy when he wants to talk to Hank.

But this one comes with the familiar sounds of being on the road. Harlen's driving somewhere.

He sounds exhausted as he speaks, voice holding an air of distraction as he's focused on the road.

"Hi, Puddin', just wanted to ask," he begins, pausing briefly to make a turn. "What's your address?" It would be an odd question if Harlen hadn't just driven into New York.

He did say he'd visit soon.

@save-the-horse

When Hank first hears the voice note, he assumes that maybe Harlen just wants to send him something. But the fact that he's asking while driving and the exhaustion in his tone is enough to convince Hank otherwise.

He didn't... did he? Shit.

It's a double-edged sword right in the gut. He's fucking ecstatic at the prospect of seeing Harlen in person. His mood has improved significantly since they've started talking again. But there's so much he doesn't know... so much Hank can't let him know.

He can do this. Focus on the positives. Don't fuck this up.

At least his apartment is clean, but he definitely needs to take out the trash. A shower wouldn't hurt, either. And he's not too hungover, at least. He's carrying bags down the stairs while calling Harlen. "Whatcha up to, Harley?" He asks with a chuckle. "You in town or somethin'?"

There's no hiding his excitement. Not when it comes to Harlen.

[save-the-horse]

Harlen doesn't get a chance to respond before Hank hangs up but that's fine; traffic is moving again anyway. New York drivers are dicks. And they all seem to drive slower than a snail moves, which is extremely infuriating to an extremely tired Harlen who is used to people driving over 80mph all the time. He thought New York was meant to be lively.

He makes it to Hank's apartment within 20 minutes, not including the time it took to find parking, and rings the bell.

Hank receives a voicenote. It's been a common occurrence since Harlen got his number, especially since Harlen's hands are usually busy when he wants to talk to Hank.

But this one comes with the familiar sounds of being on the road. Harlen's driving somewhere.

He sounds exhausted as he speaks, voice holding an air of distraction as he's focused on the road.

"Hi, Puddin', just wanted to ask," he begins, pausing briefly to make a turn. "What's your address?" It would be an odd question if Harlen hadn't just driven into New York.

He did say he'd visit soon.

@save-the-horse

When Hank first hears the voice note, he assumes that maybe Harlen just wants to send him something. But the fact that he's asking while driving and the exhaustion in his tone is enough to convince Hank otherwise.

He didn't... did he? Shit.

It's a double-edged sword right in the gut. He's fucking ecstatic at the prospect of seeing Harlen in person. His mood has improved significantly since they've started talking again. But there's so much he doesn't know... so much Hank can't let him know.

He can do this. Focus on the positives. Don't fuck this up.

At least his apartment is clean, but he definitely needs to take out the trash. A shower wouldn't hurt, either. And he's not too hungover, at least. He's carrying bags down the stairs while calling Harlen. "Whatcha up to, Harley?" He asks with a chuckle. "You in town or somethin'?"

There's no hiding his excitement. Not when it comes to Harlen.

[save-the-horse]

If Harlen's entirely honest, having Hank almost full-name him puts the absolute fear of god in him for a split second, though it's almost immediately softened by the genuine concern in Hank's voice. "Yeah, I shoulda stopped at some point; sorry."

Stuck in traffic once again, Harlen rests his forehead on the wheel. He should've flown out here instead. "Alright, Puddin'... I'll be there soon, okay?" The love you is silent but it's heavily implied in every word.

Hank receives a voicenote. It's been a common occurrence since Harlen got his number, especially since Harlen's hands are usually busy when he wants to talk to Hank.

But this one comes with the familiar sounds of being on the road. Harlen's driving somewhere.

He sounds exhausted as he speaks, voice holding an air of distraction as he's focused on the road.

"Hi, Puddin', just wanted to ask," he begins, pausing briefly to make a turn. "What's your address?" It would be an odd question if Harlen hadn't just driven into New York.

He did say he'd visit soon.

@save-the-horse

When Hank first hears the voice note, he assumes that maybe Harlen just wants to send him something. But the fact that he's asking while driving and the exhaustion in his tone is enough to convince Hank otherwise.

He didn't... did he? Shit.

It's a double-edged sword right in the gut. He's fucking ecstatic at the prospect of seeing Harlen in person. His mood has improved significantly since they've started talking again. But there's so much he doesn't know... so much Hank can't let him know.

He can do this. Focus on the positives. Don't fuck this up.

At least his apartment is clean, but he definitely needs to take out the trash. A shower wouldn't hurt, either. And he's not too hungover, at least. He's carrying bags down the stairs while calling Harlen. "Whatcha up to, Harley?" He asks with a chuckle. "You in town or somethin'?"

There's no hiding his excitement. Not when it comes to Harlen.

[save-the-horse]

Harlen doesn't quite notice the silence until Hank starts talking again, and by then he's caught off-guard by Hank's correction, evidenced by the confused hum. "No no, 's fine, Puddin', ya don't have t' do that," he reassures him, typing the address into his GPS.

He goes quiet for a second too long when Hank asks him how long he's driving, a grimace on his face as he dreads the telling-off he's going to get. "About 26 hours?"

Hank receives a voicenote. It's been a common occurrence since Harlen got his number, especially since Harlen's hands are usually busy when he wants to talk to Hank.

But this one comes with the familiar sounds of being on the road. Harlen's driving somewhere.

He sounds exhausted as he speaks, voice holding an air of distraction as he's focused on the road.

"Hi, Puddin', just wanted to ask," he begins, pausing briefly to make a turn. "What's your address?" It would be an odd question if Harlen hadn't just driven into New York.

He did say he'd visit soon.

@save-the-horse

When Hank first hears the voice note, he assumes that maybe Harlen just wants to send him something. But the fact that he's asking while driving and the exhaustion in his tone is enough to convince Hank otherwise.

He didn't... did he? Shit.

It's a double-edged sword right in the gut. He's fucking ecstatic at the prospect of seeing Harlen in person. His mood has improved significantly since they've started talking again. But there's so much he doesn't know... so much Hank can't let him know.

He can do this. Focus on the positives. Don't fuck this up.

At least his apartment is clean, but he definitely needs to take out the trash. A shower wouldn't hurt, either. And he's not too hungover, at least. He's carrying bags down the stairs while calling Harlen. "Whatcha up to, Harley?" He asks with a chuckle. "You in town or somethin'?"

There's no hiding his excitement. Not when it comes to Harlen.

[save-the-horse]

No matter how many times it happens, a call from Hank always brightens Harlen's mood. Even after over a full day of driving, getting stuck in traffic every couple hours — he supposes that's what love will do to a guy.

He answers the phone with a smile, his phone on speaker.

"Mhm, been in New York about an hour," he responds, a smile evident in his voice, even though he's nearly falling asleep at the wheel at this point. "Was gonna swing by your place then find somewhere to stay while I'm here.",

Hank receives a voicenote. It's been a common occurrence since Harlen got his number, especially since Harlen's hands are usually busy when he wants to talk to Hank.

But this one comes with the familiar sounds of being on the road. Harlen's driving somewhere.

He sounds exhausted as he speaks, voice holding an air of distraction as he's focused on the road.

"Hi, Puddin', just wanted to ask," he begins, pausing briefly to make a turn. "What's your address?" It would be an odd question if Harlen hadn't just driven into New York.

He did say he'd visit soon.

@save-the-horse

When Hank first hears the voice note, he assumes that maybe Harlen just wants to send him something. But the fact that he's asking while driving and the exhaustion in his tone is enough to convince Hank otherwise.

He didn't... did he? Shit.

It's a double-edged sword right in the gut. He's fucking ecstatic at the prospect of seeing Harlen in person. His mood has improved significantly since they've started talking again. But there's so much he doesn't know... so much Hank can't let him know.

He can do this. Focus on the positives. Don't fuck this up.

At least his apartment is clean, but he definitely needs to take out the trash. A shower wouldn't hurt, either. And he's not too hungover, at least. He's carrying bags down the stairs while calling Harlen. "Whatcha up to, Harley?" He asks with a chuckle. "You in town or somethin'?"

There's no hiding his excitement. Not when it comes to Harlen.

[save-the-horse]

27/10/1998, 21:22

"'Cenzo?" Isobel is rightly confused when her usually jovial, sweet son storms into the house, slamming the front door on his way in before marching upstairs to his room, only regarding his mother with a grumpy huff.

There's punch in his hair, all over his shirt, his nose is bloody and bruised and his ribs are probably bruised too, judging by how much they hurt.

He's annoyed. No, not just annoyed — Harlen is fucking pissed. This is blatantly evident in way he slams his bedroom door the moment he gets upstairs, locking it.

Isobel glances at her husband with an undeniably worried expression that immediately translates to 'go talk to him'. And so Vincent does, hoisting himself out of his chair and making his way upstairs.

By the time the older man is at the top of the steps, he can already hear a familiar song playing loudly from Harlen's bedroom, no doubt from his own collection. Harlen has always had a habit of borrowing his father's CDs when he's upset. Vincent sighs, walking over to the door and knocking gently.

"Figlio, can I come in?" he asks quietly, waiting patiently for his son's answer.

It's a few moments before Harlen opens the door, face settled into a scowl, as he looks at his father. "What?" he spits.

Vincent raises an eyebrow. "Easy there, principino."

Harlen's face and tone soften at the nickname, mumbling a quiet sorry before walking back into his room, leaving the door open for his father to enter, sinking into his spinny chair.

"That's alright, son. Do you want to talk about it?" he asks as he walks in, closing the door behind him and leaning against Harlen's desk.

Harlen shakes his head, turning the music up a little. Vincent hums.

"That's alright, kid."

And, for at least another hour, the pair simply enjoys the music, completely silent otherwise, until Harlen falls asleep, snoring softly.

Vincent smiles at him, putting a blanket over him and lightly ruffling his hair before turning off the CD player, then the light, and leaving the room, closing the door.

[save-the-horse]

27/04/1994, 17:03

Harlen is pissed.

Someone had made fun of him at school today and he missed the bus home, so he'd had to walk. It has not been a good day for him.

"'Cenzo," his mother calls out to him when he passes the kitchen, putting down the potato she'd been peeling.

He stops and glances at her, his lip bloody and bruised, his nose much the same, and a bruise developing on his swollen left eye.

Instantly, his mother's brow furrows in worry as she quickly walks towards him, hands raising to carefully hold his face. "Who did this?"

Harlen doesn't answer, looking away from her with a little grunt as he stuffs his hands into his pockets, no doubt to hide the cuts on his knuckles.

"Vincenzo. Was it those boys at school again?" She always fusses over him, of the firm belief that it's her duty to do so. He is all she has left, after all.

"Mamma, it's fine. 'S not as bad as before," he attempts to reassure her, knowing exactly how she can be when it comes to school matters.

She shakes her head. "No, I will pick you up tomorrow."

"Mamma–"

"Harlen."

He goes quiet, knowing that she isn't letting up — she only uses his first name when she's serious. "... Okay."

[save-the-horse]

When Hank mentions cussing him out in person, Harlen sits bolt upright, a regrettable decision as the room starts to spin and he has to close his eyes.

When he speaks again, the smile is clear in his voice. "Yer serious? I can visit soon?" There's so much hope in his voice — he wasn't kidding when he'd said he misses Hank.

Hank bursts through his apartment door like he doesn't have the key. He does, of course, but it took him a minute to find the hole... he usually doesn't have that problem.

Laughing obnoxiously at his own inner monolog, he stumbles inside and has to lean against the wall to close the door. The room spins, and fuck, maybe it's a good thing his friend took his motorcycle keys away from him at the bar. Fucker better not ride it, though.

Once his shoes are slipped off and his jacket is tossed who knows where, he's collapsing onto his couch with a sigh. He can already feel the shift, though. Being drunk with friends is one thing, but being left alone with your inner thoughts and... other shit...

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he scrambles to get it out, anything for a distraction. It's a voice message from an unknown number... possible work. He hits play and listens.

@save-the-horse

[save-the-horse]

By the time Hank pauses to breathe, Harlen is twice as worried as before for a reason he can't quite pinpoint hearing it over the phone. "Don't say that, Hank... You're a good man. I ain't better than you."

While he knows Hank can't see it, Harlen shakes his head as Hank apologises. "You had every right to leave," Harlen says, a teary but genuine reassurance. "I should be cussin' you for not reachin' but there ain't a part of me that'll let me stay mad at you for that long."

Hank bursts through his apartment door like he doesn't have the key. He does, of course, but it took him a minute to find the hole... he usually doesn't have that problem.

Laughing obnoxiously at his own inner monolog, he stumbles inside and has to lean against the wall to close the door. The room spins, and fuck, maybe it's a good thing his friend took his motorcycle keys away from him at the bar. Fucker better not ride it, though.

Once his shoes are slipped off and his jacket is tossed who knows where, he's collapsing onto his couch with a sigh. He can already feel the shift, though. Being drunk with friends is one thing, but being left alone with your inner thoughts and... other shit...

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he scrambles to get it out, anything for a distraction. It's a voice message from an unknown number... possible work. He hits play and listens.

@save-the-horse

[save-the-horse]

If Harlen were sober, maybe he wouldn't be crying. He isn't particularly emotional when drunk but he is worse at suppressing his emotions.

So when Hank says he misses him too, it's impossible to stop the tears from falling, sniffling quietly, as he curls up on the floor. "I- It ain't a problem, you know that, I love Ms. Dorothy," he reassures him as he wipes his eyes. "Why're you sorry?"

Hank bursts through his apartment door like he doesn't have the key. He does, of course, but it took him a minute to find the hole... he usually doesn't have that problem.

Laughing obnoxiously at his own inner monolog, he stumbles inside and has to lean against the wall to close the door. The room spins, and fuck, maybe it's a good thing his friend took his motorcycle keys away from him at the bar. Fucker better not ride it, though.

Once his shoes are slipped off and his jacket is tossed who knows where, he's collapsing onto his couch with a sigh. He can already feel the shift, though. Being drunk with friends is one thing, but being left alone with your inner thoughts and... other shit...

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he scrambles to get it out, anything for a distraction. It's a voice message from an unknown number... possible work. He hits play and listens.

@save-the-horse

[save-the-horse]

23/08/2024, 15:21

Harlen's memory is, admittedly, terrible. He remembers faces and events but he always pulls a blank when it comes to names.

So when an oddly familiar face pushes her car into his shop, he just gets to work, though not without spending the entire time silently wracking his brain to try to figure out where he recognises this lady from.

Once he's done fixing her car, he notices that she's been staring at him for God knows how long. "Oh my God, Harlen?"

Well now he's even more confused. "...Yes?"

"Oh my– Harlen, it's me, Katie! Wow, I haven't seen you since my daddy chased you outta the house, how've ya been?"

Oh no. Hell no.

"Katie? I haven't thought about you since physiotherapy!" he responds and while he knows he's being mean, his ankle still hasn't healed yet and physio was super expensive. And she never came to visit him in hospital, nor even attempted to check in. If he had to pick an enemy, he'd pick her.

Katie chuckles awkwardly. "Ya went to physio for it? That bad, huh?"

Harlen smiles stiffly, not a hint of warmth in it. "Uh-huh. Still ain't healed. Had to get stitches and everythin'. What're you doin' East?"

"I'm gettin' married! Remember Tim?"

"Tim Waters from high school?"

"Uh-huh!"

Harlen hums quietly, continuing work on her car. "Great."

At least she doesn't try to invite him.

"I was actually plannin' to send you an invite on Facebook," she blurts out, as if she'd read his mind.

"Oh." Shit.

[save-the-horse]

Harlen tries to ignore the flatness of Hank's chuckle, if only because he doesn't have the energy to stress out over the idea — that's a problem for 100% sober Harlen.

"They're treatin' me fine, Hank, don't worry. I'm just glad you ain't gettin' bled dry out there; city mechanics get real trigger happy when someone ain't from their parts. Yer probably better than most of 'em anyhow. Smarter too."

Hank bursts through his apartment door like he doesn't have the key. He does, of course, but it took him a minute to find the hole... he usually doesn't have that problem.

Laughing obnoxiously at his own inner monolog, he stumbles inside and has to lean against the wall to close the door. The room spins, and fuck, maybe it's a good thing his friend took his motorcycle keys away from him at the bar. Fucker better not ride it, though.

Once his shoes are slipped off and his jacket is tossed who knows where, he's collapsing onto his couch with a sigh. He can already feel the shift, though. Being drunk with friends is one thing, but being left alone with your inner thoughts and... other shit...

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he scrambles to get it out, anything for a distraction. It's a voice message from an unknown number... possible work. He hits play and listens.

@save-the-horse

[save-the-horse]

Harlen shifts to lay down on his side on the floor, putting the phone on speaker and placing it in front of him. His head is spinning from all the emotions but he refuses to stop listening.

"That's good to hear... East coast? Like.. like New York?" Harlen chuckles, though it's a slightly worried sound. "Don't go joinin' a gang or somethin' now, will you?" He's only partly joking — he's heard some wild things about the East coast and he'd meant it when he said that he didn't want the next time he sees Hank to be on the news.

"There ain't anythin' interestin' goin' on with me, as always. I've started workin' in the autoshop down the road, though."

Hank bursts through his apartment door like he doesn't have the key. He does, of course, but it took him a minute to find the hole... he usually doesn't have that problem.

Laughing obnoxiously at his own inner monolog, he stumbles inside and has to lean against the wall to close the door. The room spins, and fuck, maybe it's a good thing his friend took his motorcycle keys away from him at the bar. Fucker better not ride it, though.

Once his shoes are slipped off and his jacket is tossed who knows where, he's collapsing onto his couch with a sigh. He can already feel the shift, though. Being drunk with friends is one thing, but being left alone with your inner thoughts and... other shit...

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he scrambles to get it out, anything for a distraction. It's a voice message from an unknown number... possible work. He hits play and listens.

@save-the-horse