Page 138 of Untouchable

"I want to see you more and... do this thing the right way for once. I'd still like it if we could take it slow," Harp cautions.

Parker nods, forgetting for a moment that Harp can’t see him.

"You are my first boyfriend, after all," Harp adds with a wry laugh.

“Of course,” Parker says with a kind laugh. “Yeah—I—I’m sorry. I’ll—I’ll try harder with that, okay? I know—I know I haven’t made it very easy on you.”

He grins down at himself, still amazed that he’d run out of Thanksgiving dinner almost in tears and had somehow ended up with a boyfriend.

“And… for what it’s worth… You’re the first person to ask me to be their boyfriend. With Cole, he… didn’t like labels. It took ages for him to refer to me as his boyfriend. I mean, after five years I finally figured out that it was really that he just didn’t like me, but—yeah. It’s, um. I guess what I’m saying is… this stuff is still kinda new to me too? And scary. But… good scary, not bad scary. Like hiking up a mountain and seeing a really amazing view from a cliff kind of scary, not like… spiders in your bed scary.”

"It's a little spiders-in-your-bed scary," Harp points out. "If you fuck up a hike, your friend doesn't disappear from your life, but if there are spiders in your bed then... okay I'm a little lost on this mixed metaphor but you see where I'm going with this right?"

“Okay, but… I’m not your friend,” Parker says seriously. “I’m your boyfriend, remember?”

* * *

Harp laughsand blushes and it makes everything worse. It's absurd and frightening and Harp has no idea if he's done the right thing, but for the first time in a week he actually knows where he stands in the world. And that's good. He can deal with that. Especially if Harp's presence in Parker's life is helping in some way, teaching Parker that he's valuable and worthwhile and someone to be proud of.

The label feels good. Navigable. He didn’t realize how much he needed it.

"Don't let those assholes get you down," Harp says. "If they start going in on you, just think about what Bo and I would say about how kind you are, how thoughtful and rare and..."

“Stop it,” Parker says with a laugh. “You’re making me blush. And besides, Bo can’t talk. He might pee on my aunt’s shoe, though, which would be okay.”

* * *

He pauses for a moment. “Harp,”he says, a little more softly now. “Thank you. For… talking with me. And… for… being… really great in general, I guess. You make me happy, and I want to—”

There’s a loud knock at the door, and Parker jumps.

“Parker,” his mother says. “What on earth are you doing in there? We’ve been waiting on you to start dessert.”

“Uh—just a second, Mom—” Parker calls. “I’ll be right down.”

“Well, hurry,” she says, and Parker can practically hear the way she’s pursing her lips into that familiar disappointed expression.

“Shit,” Parker says to Harp. “I—I gotta go but—I’ll talk to you more later, okay? You’re the best.”

He vaguely hears Harp saying something, but he’s already ending the call and rushing down the stairs.

And this time, when he sits down at the table with his family, who always seem to be disappointed in him, who never seem to want to learn about the real Parker, who’ve made Parker so miserable for so many years—this time, Parker finds the sting is a little softer.

Because now he has Harp.

* * *

Harp goes backto his plate of tacos feeling unmoored in the best way possible.

It's frightening to get out of his own way, to listen to what Parker says without constantly second-guessing him. As unlikely as it may be, it's clear that Parker cares about him, wants Harp in his life.

He's infinitely glad that he decided to be sober today, despite wanting nothing more than to just be trashed and not have to think about the rest of the Harper clan, what might be said over the dinner table tonight about him and Gil. If he had been drinking, he'd be second-guessing himself by now.

But he's not. Because Parker is sure. And if Parker is sure, Harp can... try to pretend he's confident in himself, at the very least.

Fake it ‘til you make it,he tells himself.

Harp fires up "Die Hard" on his laptop—The only Christmas movie that matters, he thinks—after dinner, the dogs curled in their usual corner and a fire gently rolling in the wood-burning stove.

He's half asleep when Parker's last text of the night comes in:

>>PARKER: sorry for disappearing. rest of night was better. im about to pass out but ill call you tomorrow if thats ok

It's followed by more heart emojis than Harp was aware existed. He snorts and smiles and resists the urge to scroll back up to Parker's pictures from the night before.

>>HARP: Sounds perfect, baby. Goodnight.

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