Tom Hauser (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
only_good_teacher) wrote2026-01-19 10:37 am
only_good_teacher) wrote2026-01-19 10:37 am
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Tommy sits at the desk in the office that he’ll grow up to share with Daniel, paper and pen in hand. Daniel’s gone to work, and it feels strange to have the apartment to himself — well, himself and Bopp, who has been following Tommy around all weekend as if making sure he isn’t going to have another conniption.
Daniel had tried to take the day bed in this very office, but Tommy had insisted; he doesn’t think it was the stern looks he’s been secretly perfecting for when he becomes a TA next semester, but rather that Daniel Sousa might, maybe, have a hard time saying no to Tom Hauser. If Tommy used that to his advantage to stop from kicking Daniel out of his own bed, then that’s hardly a crime, is it? And it puts him right in the office where he and Daniel apparently work, sometimes, and while he’s alone, he takes a moment to take advantage of that, too.
He pens a letter. It isn’t to Daniel, per se, though if he knows himself as well as he thinks he does, he’ll be sharing it with Daniel once this ends. If it ends.
Tommy still can’t decide if he hopes it ends or not. Visiting the future like this has been… surprisingly novel and strangely comforting, and Daniel has been nigh princely, but there’s the very real possibility that once things go back to normal, he won’t remember any of this. Oh, Tom Hauser will, most likely. But Tommy, in his own real timeline, in Henri’s bed? If he goes back to that exact moment in time, he probably won’t remember a single moment of Daniel Sousa or Darrow. And that feels like losing something.
Or maybe it’s exactly what needs to happen to get him exactly to the moment in time where he first meets Daniel. They fall in love because of exactly who Tom Hauser is when Tom Hauser arrives comes here, and if ensuring that happens means Tommy forgetting all of this, then he’d do it, he thinks, in a heartbeat. For himself and for Daniel. Maybe for Daniel most of all.
Is that too maudlin?
Is he old enough to be maudlin?
Tommy sighs and looks at the photo that Daniel had introduced him to only a few days ago now. He’s been a little obsessed with it, he knows. It’s probably strange that he is, but he’s been just so completely fascinated by the sight of himself, visibly older, visibly happier. The Tom Hauser in that photo doesn’t have a skrid of the baggage that Tommy feels hanging off his shoulders every single day. He has no idea what path leads him to the man in that picture, other than the little bits that Daniel’s told him, but now it feels like every choice he makes from now on will really, truly matter.
Maybe it’s okay that he’s a little maudlin.
“Oh, just start writing, Tommy,” he says, and huffs a laugh at himself. Bopp lifts her head from where she lays on the daybed, tilting her head at him. “I’m being a fucking idiot,” he tells her, and she lowers her chin back to her paws. “...Don’t rush argue, or anything,” he adds, rolling his eyes at her. But he’s smiling, and he turns to lift the pen at last.
Dear Tom,
That’s what Daniel calls you, right? Not Tommy, not Thomas. Just Tom. Nice and simple. You look like a nice and simple guy, in the photos he’s shown me. That isn’t an insult, although I know you’ll remember that around this age, you thought ‘nice’ and ‘simple’ were both things to shun. Or at least, you pretended to, didn’t you? By which I mean, I pretend to. I have wished, for so long, for a life that is kind, a life that is not difficult to live. And once I had a name for how different I was from my peers, I resigned myself to a life that would see little kindness, and less simplicity.
That’s why I am the way I am, isn’t it? One of many (probably thousands of) reasons, anyway. Mom and Dad, the Church, every small-minded bully and every hate-fueled crime… I thought that I had to safeguard myself against all of that by being harsh and defensive. I’m a snapping turtle, as ready to hide in his shell as he is to bite the first thing to get too close. And sure, I’ve met people like me, people I’ve grown to trust and care about. People I can feel safe with. But despite sharing friendship and more with these kindred spirits, I don’t think I ever believed it could be possible to be where you are now. Not really, truly believed. Seeing what I have this last handful of days, I can see I’ve been wrong. At some point, I get the life I’ve always secretly, privately wanted from inside my snapping turtle shell.
Because of you and Daniel, I’m excited to get there. For the first time in a long time, I’m excited to learn who I am and how I become him. For the first time in a long time, I believe it’s actually possible to be the kind of man that someone like Daniel Sousa can love. And not only that, I want to be. Because, fuck, he’s… amazing, Tom. I hope you realize this, and I hope you take care of him. Do your best to never, ever lose him. I can’t remember meeting someone kinder, more patient, more considerate. You are so lucky. I, somehow, grow up to become so lucky, and that feels impossible.
I don’t know if I’ll remember any of this, once things go back to the way they’re meant to be. But I promise, I’ll do my best to make sure you get where you need to be, Tom, so you can have your chance. Luck doesn’t work on its own, right? Fortune favors the bold, et cetera. So I’ll do my best to help you find your way to exactly where you were when I woke up in your and Daniel’s bed. (And Daniel, if you end up reading this like I think you will, I’m sorry for panicking and accusing you of kidnapping me from Paris. You are nothing short of a gentleman and I’m very grateful to have met you. If it’s not too much to ask, please continue to take care of me, and I promise, with everything that I am, I’ll take care of you back. You deserve nothing less.)
Sincerely,
Tom Hauser (ca age 19)
Once he’s finished, Tommy tri-folds the paper and rummages through the desk to find an envelope, and he doesn’t even feel badly about it. It’s his desk, after all, or it will be in a dozen years. He finds a box of them in the bottom drawer and he rolls his eyes.
“Adults are so fucking predictable,” he says. “I bet there’s a whole book of stamps in here, too.” He pulls the drawer out a little further and, yep, there it is. “Ugh. How domestic.”
But it isn’t as derisive as it sounds. He smiles a little and leaves the stamps where they are, instead writing his own name across the front of the envelope before tucking his letter inside. That done, he slips it under the black, folded up slab of plastic on the desk and then climbs onto the daybed with Bopp.
“I grow up to be very lame and predictable,” he tells her, cooing at her as he strokes his hands along her jowls and behind her ears. “Did you know that? So fucking lame, and I’m excited about it! Can you believe that, girl? Huh? I’m so excited to grow up to be super lame-o!”
The more he talks, the more excited Bopp gets, too, and he laughs as she whines and licks at his chin. He might be projecting, but she seems relieved that he’s not being an asshole.
Daniel had tried to take the day bed in this very office, but Tommy had insisted; he doesn’t think it was the stern looks he’s been secretly perfecting for when he becomes a TA next semester, but rather that Daniel Sousa might, maybe, have a hard time saying no to Tom Hauser. If Tommy used that to his advantage to stop from kicking Daniel out of his own bed, then that’s hardly a crime, is it? And it puts him right in the office where he and Daniel apparently work, sometimes, and while he’s alone, he takes a moment to take advantage of that, too.
He pens a letter. It isn’t to Daniel, per se, though if he knows himself as well as he thinks he does, he’ll be sharing it with Daniel once this ends. If it ends.
Tommy still can’t decide if he hopes it ends or not. Visiting the future like this has been… surprisingly novel and strangely comforting, and Daniel has been nigh princely, but there’s the very real possibility that once things go back to normal, he won’t remember any of this. Oh, Tom Hauser will, most likely. But Tommy, in his own real timeline, in Henri’s bed? If he goes back to that exact moment in time, he probably won’t remember a single moment of Daniel Sousa or Darrow. And that feels like losing something.
Or maybe it’s exactly what needs to happen to get him exactly to the moment in time where he first meets Daniel. They fall in love because of exactly who Tom Hauser is when Tom Hauser arrives comes here, and if ensuring that happens means Tommy forgetting all of this, then he’d do it, he thinks, in a heartbeat. For himself and for Daniel. Maybe for Daniel most of all.
Is that too maudlin?
Is he old enough to be maudlin?
Tommy sighs and looks at the photo that Daniel had introduced him to only a few days ago now. He’s been a little obsessed with it, he knows. It’s probably strange that he is, but he’s been just so completely fascinated by the sight of himself, visibly older, visibly happier. The Tom Hauser in that photo doesn’t have a skrid of the baggage that Tommy feels hanging off his shoulders every single day. He has no idea what path leads him to the man in that picture, other than the little bits that Daniel’s told him, but now it feels like every choice he makes from now on will really, truly matter.
Maybe it’s okay that he’s a little maudlin.
“Oh, just start writing, Tommy,” he says, and huffs a laugh at himself. Bopp lifts her head from where she lays on the daybed, tilting her head at him. “I’m being a fucking idiot,” he tells her, and she lowers her chin back to her paws. “...Don’t rush argue, or anything,” he adds, rolling his eyes at her. But he’s smiling, and he turns to lift the pen at last.
Dear Tom,
That’s what Daniel calls you, right? Not Tommy, not Thomas. Just Tom. Nice and simple. You look like a nice and simple guy, in the photos he’s shown me. That isn’t an insult, although I know you’ll remember that around this age, you thought ‘nice’ and ‘simple’ were both things to shun. Or at least, you pretended to, didn’t you? By which I mean, I pretend to. I have wished, for so long, for a life that is kind, a life that is not difficult to live. And once I had a name for how different I was from my peers, I resigned myself to a life that would see little kindness, and less simplicity.
That’s why I am the way I am, isn’t it? One of many (probably thousands of) reasons, anyway. Mom and Dad, the Church, every small-minded bully and every hate-fueled crime… I thought that I had to safeguard myself against all of that by being harsh and defensive. I’m a snapping turtle, as ready to hide in his shell as he is to bite the first thing to get too close. And sure, I’ve met people like me, people I’ve grown to trust and care about. People I can feel safe with. But despite sharing friendship and more with these kindred spirits, I don’t think I ever believed it could be possible to be where you are now. Not really, truly believed. Seeing what I have this last handful of days, I can see I’ve been wrong. At some point, I get the life I’ve always secretly, privately wanted from inside my snapping turtle shell.
Because of you and Daniel, I’m excited to get there. For the first time in a long time, I’m excited to learn who I am and how I become him. For the first time in a long time, I believe it’s actually possible to be the kind of man that someone like Daniel Sousa can love. And not only that, I want to be. Because, fuck, he’s… amazing, Tom. I hope you realize this, and I hope you take care of him. Do your best to never, ever lose him. I can’t remember meeting someone kinder, more patient, more considerate. You are so lucky. I, somehow, grow up to become so lucky, and that feels impossible.
I don’t know if I’ll remember any of this, once things go back to the way they’re meant to be. But I promise, I’ll do my best to make sure you get where you need to be, Tom, so you can have your chance. Luck doesn’t work on its own, right? Fortune favors the bold, et cetera. So I’ll do my best to help you find your way to exactly where you were when I woke up in your and Daniel’s bed. (And Daniel, if you end up reading this like I think you will, I’m sorry for panicking and accusing you of kidnapping me from Paris. You are nothing short of a gentleman and I’m very grateful to have met you. If it’s not too much to ask, please continue to take care of me, and I promise, with everything that I am, I’ll take care of you back. You deserve nothing less.)
Sincerely,
Tom Hauser (ca age 19)
Once he’s finished, Tommy tri-folds the paper and rummages through the desk to find an envelope, and he doesn’t even feel badly about it. It’s his desk, after all, or it will be in a dozen years. He finds a box of them in the bottom drawer and he rolls his eyes.
“Adults are so fucking predictable,” he says. “I bet there’s a whole book of stamps in here, too.” He pulls the drawer out a little further and, yep, there it is. “Ugh. How domestic.”
But it isn’t as derisive as it sounds. He smiles a little and leaves the stamps where they are, instead writing his own name across the front of the envelope before tucking his letter inside. That done, he slips it under the black, folded up slab of plastic on the desk and then climbs onto the daybed with Bopp.
“I grow up to be very lame and predictable,” he tells her, cooing at her as he strokes his hands along her jowls and behind her ears. “Did you know that? So fucking lame, and I’m excited about it! Can you believe that, girl? Huh? I’m so excited to grow up to be super lame-o!”
The more he talks, the more excited Bopp gets, too, and he laughs as she whines and licks at his chin. He might be projecting, but she seems relieved that he’s not being an asshole.