By Haoran Xia
Published on: DeepFocus
December 29, 2023
At present, the gay community (to avoid ambiguity: in this essay, “gay” refers exclusively to gay men) appears to have entered a so-called era of peace. Every summer brings Pride Month celebrations; social media is saturated with daily-life vlogs of same-sex couples (vlogs are, of course, a dominant contemporary form of circulation, but it is worth noting that same-sex couples often foreground their sexual identity as a label or title in order to attract views, traffic, attention, and visibility. In this sense, homosexuality as a sexual orientation is converted into a form of currency within the digital economy). Most Western countries, along with a small number of nations in Asia, Africa, and Latin America, have legalized same-sex marriage. Most visibly of all, same-sex couples can now openly, unapologetically, and boldly hold hands, kiss, and use bodily gestures in public to express the most intimate forms of love.
This sense of peace also permeates film and television. In Red, White & Royal Blue, released this summer, the son of the U.S. president, Alex, and Prince Henry of the British royal family fall in love without encountering any real obstruction. In season two of the British series Heartstopper, the show constructs a school and social environment that is infinitely inclusive of the LGBTQ community. Of course, cinematic acceptance of homosexuality did not begin this year. As early as Call Me by Your Name (2017), audiences had already begun to sense the public sphere and the film industry’s growing capacity to accommodate gay love. It is precisely this accommodation, and the gradual recognition within public society, that laid the foundation for the “peace” enjoyed by gay men today. Yet this peace is nothing more than an illusion: an extreme form of political correctness, and a mode of implicit discipline concealed beneath orthodox power. When homosexuality is normalized, treated as a social group equal to heterosexuals in terms of sexual orientation, this very process of normalization exposes its position within society: marginal, irrelevant, excessive, abnormal.
Thus, even in this era of relative “peace,” the gay community continues to be subjected to another form of discipline, one that is everywhere. The voyeuristic fascination with same-sex couple lifestyles on social media gradually commodifies gay lives; on platforms like Xiaohongshu, replacing the word “homosexual” with euphemisms such as “txl” reveals an erasure of gay identity at the semantic and linguistic level. These invisible forms of discipline hide beneath the surface of “peace,” leading gay people to mistake “openness” and “free sharing” for complete equality and freedom. More dangerously, they encourage the community to forget the historical pain, suffering, persecution, and hardship endured by gay people. Yet for the gay community, these unspeakable wounds and sufferings are precisely the truth. It is within repeated failure and repeated self-discovery that gay people found themselves, and it is only through these histories of pain that today’s relative peace becomes possible. The series Fellow Travelers continues to narrate this truth.
Fellow Travelers, adapted from the novel of the same name by Thomas Mallon, premiered on Showtime in late October. The series opens at a party in 1986. In series pilot, we learn that the protagonist Hawk has received an overseas posting to Italy and will be moving there with his family, prompting a farewell gathering. The celebration is short. After arriving at the party, Hawk’s friend Marcus brings news about Tim and hands Hawk an object. At this point, the narrative cuts to a political election party in 1952. It is here that we meet Tim, the other protagonist, whom Hawk encounters for the first time. From that moment on, they remain connected, becoming colleagues, partners, friends, and lovers.
The relationship between Hawk and Tim, or rather their love, is undoubtedly the core of the series. Their love is wrapped in layers of power, politics, sadomasochism, sex, faith, lies, and suffering. Among these elements, power relations and sadomasochism, along with the sexuality that extends from power, are the most striking.
At the beginning of the series, Hawk is a decorated World War II veteran, honored for his service and contributions, and now holds a stable government position in Washington. Tim, freshly graduated from college, is a newcomer, a devout Catholic filled with idealism, hoping to enter politics and serve his country. The contrast between the seasoned political insider and the novice constructs the first imbalance in their power dynamic. This imbalance, essentially one of social status, introduces a binary of “use” and “being used” into their relationship. As the relationship unfolds, this dynamic evolves into an exchange of power: what Hawk can offer Tim, and what Tim can offer Hawk. The answer, articulated clearly in the first episode, is sex. When real-world power imbalances are transposed into the sexual realm, they become sadomasochistic relations, a dynamic of serving and being served.
Within their sexual relationship, Tim, the “weaker” figure in social reality, becomes the submissive, the one who serves; Hawk, the “stronger” figure, becomes the dominant, the one being served. The power structure of their sex life is unmistakable. Tim is affectionately called “my good boy,” frantically licking Hawk’s feet, offering up his body. Hawk luxuriates in the pleasure derived from dominating Tim, expanding his sense of power through sexual control. Pain and violence are never the true ends of sadomasochism, as Sade and Bataille both articulate; pleasure and power are. In Hawk and Tim’s dynamic, sadomasochism activates desires suppressed by political authoritarianism, producing pleasures numbed in everyday life and intensifying sensations of control, strength, power, and status.
If social identity produces the first imbalance in their relationship, the second arises from external political oppression and public control over homosexuality. This imbalance exists not only between Hawk and Tim, but between the gay community and society at large. As the series depicts, 1950s America was entrenched in the Cold War. The resulting political climate designated communists as enemies of the state. In Washington, under Senator McCarthy, homosexuals were likewise targeted, giving rise to the Lavender Scare, an ideological campaign that framed gay people as threats to American democracy. The series is saturated with depictions of this era: surprise home inspections, polygraph tests, mandatory reporting of suspected homosexual colleagues, underground bars and public restrooms as the only safe spaces, and routine arrests, convictions, and imprisonment.
In this historical moment, homosexuality ceased to be merely “abnormal” and became an obstacle, even an insult to public and political order. As Foucault famously wrote, “the sodomite had been a temporary aberration; the homosexual was now a species.” Under this political terror, Hawk and Tim’s love becomes an act of resistance, courage, and constant risk. Through hiding, evasion, and perpetual disguise, they experience the preciousness and impossibility of their love. Seen historically, their story is but the tip of the iceberg, a microcosm of gay history, and a warning: when love and sex are labeled impossible, how gay people repeatedly resist, reconstruct hope, and love fearlessly amid darkness, pain, despair, and oppression.
The final imbalance in their relationship lies between Tim and God, a tension that runs through the entire series. As a devout Catholic, Tim understands love as sacred, distant, untouchable, almost unattainable. After falling in love with Hawk and having a sexual relationship with him, Tim goes to confession, earnestly recounting his “sins” and pleading for forgiveness, while also asking in confusion, “I don’t understand why love is a sin.”
Raised in orthodox Catholic doctrine, Tim is taught to love God wholeheartedly, yet as a human being, he is equally compelled to love another person with his all. Love thus becomes a paradox: whom may I love, and will God oppose my love? Loving Hawk renders Tim a sinner, and both his love for Hawk and for himself become sins. Over thirty years, Tim seeks atonement: joining the military in the late 1950s, the church in the 1960s, social work in the 1970s. Before dying of AIDS in the 1980s, he realizes, “The only thing that matters is that I love God,” and tells Hawk, “You are my great, concusming love.” At this moment, Tim’s conception of love breaks free from faith, religion, and God. In the face of death, he recognizes that his love has always been total, and that only such total love, his suffering-filled love with Hawk, transcends faith, God, and death. This love returns to the human core, dismantles the self, and reconstructs it from its ruins. This is Tim’s greatness: destruction and reconstruction. Only through this process can gay people find their truth and their selves. Such love is also the essence of their love: courageous, total, self-sacrificial. As Žižek writes, to love someone is to grant them the power to destroy you.
Tim and Hawk’s love is profoundly entangled and complex. As the series unfolds, Hawk is often branded by viewers as a “jerk”. Yet if we are to judge someone’s behavior in an intimate relationship under such a label, the most basic criterion would be betrayal, and betrayal is usually predicated on a promise. In the series, Hawk earns this label perhaps not because he betrays Tim outright, but because he consistently fails to fulfill his promises to him: he cannot offer Tim care or protection, nor can he fully articulate or commit to his love. On Christmas Eve, for instance, although Hawk thoughtfully prepares a gift for Tim, the gift arrives alongside a work-related demand he places upon him. In this sense, Hawk’s love for Tim appears perpetually entangled with interest, sex, control, and pleasure, unlike Tim, who unabashedly shouts at Hawk in the middle of the street, “We’ve never eaten in a restaurant! Men eat in restaurants too!”, or who bursts into song in public, crooning “Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.” Yet when we hastily affix the label of “jerk” to Hawk, we may be overlooking the very power apparatus that produces such behavior in the first place: heteronormativity.
Heteronormativity is a concept proposed by American scholar Lauren Berlant in the 1990s. Unlike “heterosexuality” or “heterosexism,” heteronormativity emphasizes the elevation of emotional choices within heterosexuality (the opposite sex as the legitimate object of desire), reproductive value (reproduction as the future), moral judgment, and identity politics into a social norm or societal rule, one that disciplines people’s everyday behaviors and choices.
It is precisely under this heteronormative regime that Hawk is forced to masquerade as a straight man, to lie during polygraph tests, to inform on another gay employee, and simultaneously to use money or power to absolve his colleagues of suspicion. It is also under this same regime that Marcus chooses writing as a means of expression—racial discrimination being his primary subject, while the political implications of his homosexuality remain unspoken; that Frankie uses drag to articulate his stance and identity; that Lucy endures a marriage with Hawk that is hollow in all but form; that Lucy’s brother Leonard is sent to a psychiatric institution and subjected to electroshock therapy in an attempt to make him “normal.” And it is, finally, under this heteronormative order that Hawk, only after Tim’s death, stands before Tim’s memorial and tells his daughter: “He wasn’t my friend. He was the man I loved.”
Every character endures suffering: anxiety, interrogation, deception, death. This suffering reveals how heteronormativity disciplines gay people and their families with ruthless indifference. Only in hidden, dangerous spaces do they briefly reclaim pleasure. Gay suffering is their truth because it records oppression and proves desire. Within this suffering, they find a way of life: living on the edge, guided by pleasure, believing in pain, treating the present as the future.
Spanning thirty years, Fellow Travelers constructs a historical tableau. In the AIDS pandemic, Tim’s illness becomes central. In one hospital scene, after Tim’s first stroke, Hawk reaches for his hand. Tim pulls away, out of anger and fear. Hawk persists, clasping Tim’s hand tightly. Compared to their sex or public kisses, this gesture is more powerful, revealing the depth and complexity of their love.
Salinger once wrote, “Love is wanting to touch but pulling away.” Love is concrete. It is composed of countless gestures, words, and actions: “I love you,” or a kiss, can serve as proof of love, yet even without love these gestures and words, love can still be performed. On another level, true love is at once brave and timid, grand and fragile, reciprocal and selfish. I love you, yes, but I am afraid that you will not love the real me; therefore I hide, I evade, and thus I want to reach out, but also wanting to pull away.
Tim and Hawk’s love is precisely this. They hurt each other, avoid each other, and tell one another, “I need to forget you,” yet time and again they look into each other’s eyes and say, “Hi, Skippy.” Every one of these “Hi”s condenses thirty years of pain, longing, sorrow, and remembrance. And it is in each of these “Hi”s, in the eyes of Tim and Hawk, that we come to experience the complexity and the greatness of love: love makes us feel pain, and it also makes us grow. As Barthes once said, “I know now what I did not know.”
作者：夏浩然
发表于：深焦DeepFocus
二零二三 十二月二十九日
当下，同性恋群体（为了避免歧义——本篇评述中所提到“同性恋”仅代表男同性恋这一类别）似乎进入了一个和平年代：每年夏天的骄傲月狂欢、社交媒体上盛行的同性伴侣日常vlog（当然vlog是一种当下流行的传播形式，但值得注意的是同性伴侣通常会以自我身份作为标签或标题以此来吸引更多观众——也就是流量、关注和曝光，那么在另一程度上，同性恋这种性取向则转化为同性恋群体在电子世界通行的货币）、大部分欧美国家以及少数亚非拉国家对同性婚姻的法律认可以及最显赫的，同性伴侣能够公开地、肆无忌惮地、大胆地在公共场合牵手、接吻、利用肢体和动作来表示最亲密的爱意。
这样的和平同样存在于影视作品中：于今年夏天上映的《星条红与皇室蓝》里，美国总统的儿子——阿里克斯与英国王室王子——亨利不受任何阻碍地谈恋爱，以及在英剧《心跳漏一拍》第二季中，该剧集够构造的对于LGBTQ群体无限包容的校园及社会环境。当然，影视作品中对同性恋的包容及接受并未从今年开始：在2017年的《请以你的名字呼唤我》中，作为观众的我们，便逐渐从影视作品中感受到公共社会以及影视产业对同性恋的容纳。而正是这一容纳，以及公共社会中的逐渐认可为当下同性恋所拥有的“和平”奠定了基础。但这种“和平”不过只是一种假象，一种极度的政治正确，以及一种隐藏于正统权力之下的隐性规训。当同性恋被社会正常化时，即被当作在性取向上与异性恋平等的社会群体时，这一正常化过程便揭露了同性恋在这个社会中的地位：边缘、不相关、多余、不正常。
所以，在当下这个同性恋拥有相对“和平”的年代，同性恋群体同样遭受着另一程度上的规训，这样的规训无处不在：社交媒体上对同性伴侣生活的猎奇逐渐将同性恋群体商品化；小红书上以’txl’或“通讯录”替代“同性恋”三个字揭示了在语义以及语言上对同性恋身份的抹去，等等。这些隐形的规训掩藏在“和平”之下，让同性恋群体误以为“公开并自由地分享”等同于彻底的平等与自由，并进一步的，让同性恋群体逐渐忘却历史上发生在同性恋群体身上的伤痛、苦难、折磨与艰辛。而对于同性恋群体而言，历史中难以启齿的伤痛与苦难才是真相，因为在这些伤痛与苦难中，他们无数次失败却无数次找到自我，也因为通过这些伤痛与苦难，当下相对的“和平”才有存在的可能。今年下半年开播的剧集《同路人》便为同性恋群体继续讲述、刻画这个真相。
剧集《同路人》，改编自托马斯·马伦的同名小说，于今年十月底在Showtime开播。剧集开始于一场1986年的派对。在派对上我们得知，男主角霍克获得了外派至意大利的机会，将携带全家人前往意大利，因此特意在前往意大利前与家人朋友举办欢送排队。但好景不长，霍克的好友马库斯到达派对之后告诉了他一则关于蒂姆的消息并交给他一件物品。此时，镜头切换至1952年的一场政治选举派对上。在这个政治选举派对上我们得知，马库斯口中的蒂姆便是另一位男主角，他与霍克相遇于这场派对，并从此保持联系，成为了同事、伙伴、朋友，当然，还成为了爱人。
霍克与蒂姆之间的关系，或者说，爱情，无疑是这部剧集描述的核心。他们的爱被许多元素包裹：权力、政治、施虐受虐、性、信仰、谎言、苦难。在这些元素当中，权力关系与施虐受虐以及因权力关系延展的性便是最抓人眼球的元素。
在剧集开头，霍克是一名获得政府表彰的二战老兵——因为在二战中服兵役并在战争中为国家做出贡献，他在华盛顿的政府部门中拥有一份稳定的工作。而刚从大学毕业的蒂姆，则是初来乍到的新人——他是一名虔诚的天主教教徒，内心拥有一腔热血，来到华盛顿希望能够加入政治事业，为国家做出贡献。政界中的老兵与初来乍到的新人则构造了他们权力关系中的第一个不平衡。这样的不平衡，换而言之，也就是社会地位的不平衡为这段关系增添了“利用/被利用”的二元性。当然，这样的“利用/被利用”在关系的延展上则逐渐变为一种权力置换：霍克能带给蒂姆什么？以及蒂姆能够给霍克带来什么？而该问题的答案则在第一集中得到了完全的诠释：性。当现实世界中的权力不平衡被平移至性爱领域时，这样的不平衡则转换为一种施虐/受虐——一种侍奉/被侍奉的性爱关系。
在蒂姆与霍克的关系中，作为现实世界的“弱者”——蒂姆在性中则成为了受虐、侍奉的一方；现实世界中的“强者”霍克则成为了性爱里的施虐方/被侍奉对象。因此，双方在性中权力关系显而易见：（在第一集中）蒂姆被亲切地称呼为“我的乖仔”，狂乱地为霍克舔脚，奉献自己的身体；霍克无尽地享受对于蒂姆施虐所带来的性快感，并通过在性中控制他的行为，扩大自己对于权力的感受。当然，疼痛或暴力从来不是施虐受虐的目的（萨德和巴特耶在他们的作品中分别有描述），快感与权力才是：好比霍克与蒂姆之间的施虐受虐，他们在施虐与受虐的过程当中激发平日里受政治集权压迫的欲望，以此来获得日常中被麻痹的快感，并从这种快感当中，增强自己在控制、力量、权力以及地位的感受力。
那么如果因自身社会身份所携带的不平衡构建了蒂姆与霍克关系的第一个不平衡，来自于外部的政治集权压迫与公共社会对于同性恋群体的控制则构成他们关系的第二个平衡，而这第二个不平衡并非仅仅存在于蒂姆与霍克之间，它同样广泛地存在于同性恋群体之中，简而言之，是同性恋群体与公共社会之间的不平衡。正如剧集描述：上世纪50年代的美国处于与前苏联的冷战之中，因冷战而起的白色政治环境则将“共产党员”视为首要敌人；而在50年代的华盛顿，当地政府监视、清除的敌人除了共产党员之外便是同性恋者。这时期的华盛顿受参议员麦卡锡管理，在他的管理之下，华盛顿掀起了第二波红色恐慌（the red scare），而由红色恐慌延展开来的便是薰衣草恐慌（the lavendar scare）：一种旨在消除政界中的同性恋者并将同性恋者视为美国民主系统敌人的主义。在剧集中，关于“薰衣草恐慌”的情节随处可见：政府部门不定期对公务员进行上门抽查和测谎试验；政府部门内的任何公务员都有权利和义务举报其他有“同性恋”相关行为的同事；同性恋群体只能活动于地下酒吧或者公共厕所，且不定期会被警察抓捕、判罪、关进监狱。
在特殊年代，同性恋不再是一种不正常的性取向，而是一种阻碍，甚至是一种对公共空间与政治环境的侮辱，或是福柯所说的：“过去鸡奸者只是个别的异端，而现在同性恋则成了一个种类”。在这样的政治性恐慌之中，蒂姆与霍克的关系与政治集权的不平衡转变为一种反抗、一种无畏、一种如履薄冰；也是在这样的反抗与无畏中，蒂姆与霍克体会到彼此对于彼此的珍贵（虽然在50年代的剧情里，霍克是看似拥有绝对选择权的那一位：蒂姆什么时候离开他家，蒂姆什么时候到达他家，蒂姆什么时候与他见面，等等），从他们的躲藏、规避、以及时时刻刻的伪装之中体会到这份爱的不可能性。而当我们将自己脱离出剧集本身，回顾历史，我们会发现蒂姆与霍克不过只是同性恋群体历史中的冰山一角，他们的故事只是一个缩影，也同时是一个警示：在爱和性被贴上“不可能”标签时，同性恋群体是如何一次再一次在黑暗、伤痛、绝望、压迫中反抗、重构希望、并无畏地爱。
他们关系之间最后一个不平衡则来自于蒂姆与上帝的关系，而这个不平衡也是贯穿整部剧集的核心。如前文所述，蒂姆是一个虔诚的天主教教徒，在他眼中，爱对于他而言是神圣的、遥远的、触不可及的、几乎不可得的。在认识霍克、爱上霍克并与霍克发生性关系后，蒂姆前往教堂忏悔自己的罪过：他虔诚地向牧师讲述自己的行为，不停地向牧师询问，恳求牧师能够原谅他；但同时他也满心疑惑，诚心地向牧师提出自己的问题：“我不知道为什么爱是一种罪过”。
从小接受正统天主教教义的他，被教导无论如何你要全心全意地爱上帝；而同时作为一个人类的他，也如其他人一样，教导自己要全心全意地去爱自己想爱的人。在这里，爱对于蒂姆而言成了一个悖论：我能爱谁，我的爱是否会被上帝反对？而当他爱上霍克之后，在正统天主教教义里，他成为一个罪人，而他的爱——无论是对霍克的爱还是对自己的爱——都成为了一种罪。从剧集得知，蒂姆用了三十年的时间来为自己赎罪：五十年代末加入部队；六十年代加入教会；七十年代加入社工群体；八十年代在艾滋病夺走他生命前，他意识到：“唯一重要的事情是，我爱上帝”，所以，他对霍克说：“你是我深入骨髓，倾尽所有去爱的人”。至此，蒂姆对于爱的构想脱离了来自上帝、来自信仰和来自宗教的枷锁，在死亡面前，他认识到他的爱从始至终是“倾尽所有”的，而也只有“倾尽所有”实现的爱——他与霍克之间的充满苦难的爱——才是超越信仰、超越上帝、超越死亡的爱。这样的爱抛弃外部，回到人的本体，追寻自我信仰的同时拆毁自我，并在自我的废墟上重构自我的系统；这也是蒂姆伟大的原因之一：拆毁并重构，而也只有在拆毁并重构的过程中，同性恋群体才能找到属于自己的真相和自我。当然，这样的爱也是他们爱的本质：充满勇气，倾其所有，奉献一切——也正如齐泽克所言：当你爱一个人时，等于把毁灭自我的权力交给了他/她。
蒂姆与霍克的爱是错综复杂的。在观看途中，霍克的角色时常会被贴上“渣男”的标签。但如果我们要以“渣男”来判断一个人在情感关系中的行为，那么最基本的则是背叛，且这种背叛通常建立于允诺之上。而在剧集中，霍克被贴上“渣男”的标签或许是因为他始终无法对蒂姆实现自己的承诺，无法对蒂姆做到完全的照顾与关爱，也无法彻底对蒂姆表达自己的爱——在圣诞前夜，霍克虽然用心地为蒂姆准备了礼物，而随礼物而来的则是他在工作上对蒂姆的需求。就此，似乎霍克对蒂姆的爱始终围绕着利益、性、控制和快感，而不像蒂姆，肆无忌惮地在马路上对霍克大喊道：“我们从来没在餐厅里吃过饭！男人们也会在餐厅里吃饭啊”，或在餐厅里大唱情歌:“perhaps, perhaps, perhaps”。而当我们对霍克贴上“渣男”标签时，或许我们忽视了构造这“渣男”行为背后的权力机器：异性恋正统主义。
异性恋正统主义是美国学者贝兰特于上世纪90年代提出的概念。异性恋正统主义的定义在于：相比于“异性恋”或“异性恋主义”，异性恋正统主义强调的是将存在于异性恋之间的情感选择（异性作为情感客体）、生育价值（繁衍即未来）、道德判断与身份政治定义为一种社会常态，或一种社会准则，以此来规训人们在日常生活中的行为和选择。因此，正是在这异性恋正统主义背后，霍克被迫伪装直男，在测谎试验前撒谎，举报另一名同性恋员工，同时运用钱或权力关系为自己的同事洗清罪名；也正是在这异性恋正统主义背后，马库斯选择通过写作（种族歧视是他的主要选题不过作为同性恋的他，其写作的政治性始终被保留）表达他的观点，弗兰基通过变装表达自己的态度与身份，露西忍让与霍克形同虚设的婚姻，露西的弟弟莱奥纳多被送进精神病院接受电击治疗试图成为“正常人”；也正是在这异性恋正统主义背后，霍克在蒂姆死后，才在他的旗帜前告诉他的女儿：“他不是我的朋友，他是我爱的男人”。
诚然，剧集中的所有角色分别承受着不同程度的苦难——焦虑、担忧、询问、拷打、欺骗、死亡——这一苦难的体现反映了异性恋正统主义是如何无情地、盲目地对同性恋群体（以及同性恋群体的家人与妻子）进行规训和管理，他们在被压迫的同时承担着无限度的苦难，而只有在狭小、有限、危险的隐蔽空间（地下酒吧、公共厕所、公共桑拿）里，他们才有机会释放天性、暂获欢愉。因此，正如前文所述，同性恋群体的苦难是他们的真相是因为1/这是他们被压迫的记录，2/也是他们寻求欢愉的证明；也只有这样难以启齿的苦难中，他们——正如蒂姆和霍克——找到了自己的生活方式，即一种如临深渊，以快感为导向，以疼痛为信仰，视当下为未来的生活方式。
《同路人》叙事横跨三十年，剧集中途穿插叙事，蒂姆与霍克的故事，以及其他人的故事逐渐立体化，呈现一幅完整、历史记录般的画面。时间进入八十年代，故事围绕艾滋展开，而在剧集开头我们便得知：蒂姆患上了艾滋病。在剧集中途，蒂姆几次病情恶化被送往医院接受治疗。在蒂姆第一次中风被送往医院后，霍克赶来看他，而当霍克靠近他床边，想要伸手触碰安抚他时，蒂姆将手收回了。蒂姆收回手有两个原因：1/因为霍克在他病发时不在对霍克感到气愤因此不愿与霍克接触，2/对自己的病情有顾虑因此不愿让霍克接触。不过最终，霍克并不顾及，将手搭在蒂姆的手背上，紧紧地握住了蒂姆的手。相比他们的性爱与他们在公共场合的接吻，这一细节更有力量，更加体现了他们之间爱的复杂与深刻。
塞林格曾写道：“我觉得爱是想触碰又收回手”。爱情是具象的，是由无数动作、言语、行为形成的：一句“我爱你”，或者一个吻都是爱的证明，不过没有爱情，这些动作，这些言语也能实现；在另一程度上，真正的爱情是勇敢又胆小的、伟大又脆弱的、互惠又自私的：我爱你，的确，但我害怕你不会爱上真正的我，因此我需要躲藏，我需要逃避，也因此，我想要触碰，却把手收回。蒂姆与霍克的爱情正是如此：他们双方彼此伤害、彼此逃避、彼此告诉对方“我需要忘记你”的同时却一次次用双眼看着对方，对着对方说：“Hi Skippy”，而他们的每一次“Hi”都凝结着彼此在三十年之间的疼痛、思念、感伤与难忘，也正是在每一次“Hi”中，在蒂姆与霍克的双眼里我们体会到爱的复杂与伟大：爱让我们感受疼痛，也让我们成长，就如巴特曾说：“我知道我所不知道的事了”。