Page 202 of Untouchable

"Yeah, it's fucking weird but I hate banks almost as much as bad families, and when I care about someone, I try to do what I can to keep them from getting tangled up with them," Harp says. "Look, not to devalue the offer but you wouldn't be the first person I've loaned a chunk of money to who deserved it. Why do you think I already have the legal stuff written up? I don't have kids and I don't have expensive hobbies—I might as well do a little good with what money I have."

* * *

Harp makesit sound like such a trivial thing, and while Parker would have expected this to frustrate him, it’s strangely helpful. It makes it sound like a math problem, devoid of emotion with a simple, obvious solution: Harp has the money. Parker does not. Harp doesn’t need the money. Parker does. Harp makes loaning eight grand sound the way Parker and Mindy trade picking up sandwiches for each other at The Salad Shack.

“I—I’d want to do a payment plan,” Parker says resolutely. “I would pay you back—and I can pay a big chunk of it upfront, out of my savings, so—”

"I'd rather you not, actually," Harp says. "Pay up front, I mean. I'm not charging you interest, and there's no reason for you to deplete savings you presumably worked hard to set aside. You should always have something to fall back on. I'd feel much more comfortable that way—and I'm sure your parents would, too."

Parker snorts darkly.

“My parents would hate that,” he says. “They hate anything that makes me less dependent on them.”

He surprises himself with the comment. He’s almost certain that, a few months ago, he wouldn’t have realized his parents were even doing this, but the more time he spends with Harp, the more he sees how manipulative they are sometimes.

He takes a deep breath. It feels bad to take money from Harp, but—

Wait, no.

What feels bad, he tells himself, is asking for help when all he’s been taught is that needing help means weakness. And though part of his brain—a part of his brain that sounds suspiciously like his father—is warning him he’ll regret this, Parker squares his shoulders.

“Okay,” he says, letting out a ragged breath. “If—If you’re sure you won’t miss it, and—and if we sign a contract and—I want it to be official as possible, and have a limit and terms and—and—”

* * *

"Yeah.We can do all that. All we need to do is plug in our details and the terms you want. I'll put in my details, email it to you, and you can decide how long you want and how you want to do it. Or you can do that later. Either way, do you want me to call the shop and give them my card? I'm sure you'd like it if they got started sooner rather than later."

Harp feels relieved that he's able to help, that Parker is going to take him up on it without Harp having to fight with him about it. It's not even that he wants Parker to come for Christmas all that badly—he just doesn't want Parker to feel like his parents are the only option for help anymore.

“H-Holy shit,” Parker says, with a relieved, exhausted sigh into the phone. “I—thank you so fucking much. I like—I can’t even tell you how much this means—fuck—and, yeah, that’d be amazing—holy shit, you’re a lifesaver.”

"Thanks for letting me do it, and not feeling like it's overstepping. It feels like a big deal on your end, but it's just some paperwork and a phone call for me, you know? Don't think too much into it."

* * *

Even as theyare saying goodbye, though, Parker can feel himself thinking into it. Again and again, it seems that he is always relying on Harp for something, that he’d gotten himself into yet another stupid situation that Harp had to dig him out of. Getting snowed in, dealing with his family on Thanksgiving, the accident itself—how soon, Parker wonders, will Harp realize that Parker is nothing but a leech, taking and taking and taking until Harp has no more to give?

He looks up at the sky and lets out a long breath. I’m upset, he reminds himself. I’m not thinking clearly. Harp doesn’t think that, and I’m not a burden.

Still, though, reiterating this to himself again and again does little to quell the fear that’s creeping back in, that someday, Harp will look up and realize Parker has nothing to offer him.

* * *

Harp nearly forgetsGil exists in the bustle and distraction of December—and Gil has insisted over and over again that this is how things shouldbe.

Still, when Harp climbs into his truck after a day working at Haven Home only to realize that he'd left his phone in his truck and he'd missed three calls from Gil, his heart sinks.

I'm such a shitty brother,he thinks, lapsing into the familiar old manta. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What if he needed me?

He doesn't even bother pulling out of the sanctuary before he fumbles to dial Gil back.

"Heyo, Harp," Gil answers brightly.

"Hey, sorry I missed your calls. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah! Terrific, actually. I realized I'm going to be able to come visit you for Christmas."

Harp's heart drops again. "Oh?"

---