Page 113 of Untouchable

It's stupid and he shouldn't tell Parker, but it seems like the kid brings out all the dumb things in him as well as the good stuff.

"Do you want to know what I did after I saw you that day?" Harp asks.

Parker nods in the dark, squeezes his hand. Harp’s eyes feel so heavy, like they want to roll out of his head when he blinks and tries to focus, so he closes them and concentrates on the feeling of Parker's hand in his own.

"I thought you were dating Mindy and that thought fucked me over so bad, I came home and got shitfaced. What an asshole, right? But... Yeah now that I've said it out loud, that's reallypathetic."

* * *

Parker smiles so broadlyhis cheeks hurt.

“You really liked me, even then?” he asks. He’d known Harp had assumed Mindy was his girlfriend—a thought he still finds hilarious, even though he is used to people thinking that by now—but he hadn’t realized Harp had… cared.

"Yeah," Harp says, blinking slowly. "Something like that. Guess I was afraid of it though."

Parker suddenly feels wide awake, electrified by the promise of knowing more about Harp’s feelings for him. He knows he probably shouldn’t pry, but that’s never stopped him before. And now he’s curious—how long had he and Harp been mutually longing for one another?

“I can’t believe our first kiss was only… a few hours ago. It feels like hours. Heck, it feels like weeks.”

Harp says nothing, his eyes still shut, his breathing steady, but Parker’s pretty sure he’s not asleep.

“I really did, you know,” Parker says, continuing out loud a conversation he’d been having in his head. “Have a crush on you, I mean. I didn’t fuel it, or at least I tried not to. Of course Mindy kept giving me shit because she could totally tell from the very beginning. She’d be all like, making fun of me because I like… I told her about the brisket and stuff, you know? And she was like, oh my god you’re totally in love with him aren’t you, and I was like, no, he was just nice and it was really good brisket, but… yeah. I mean, she was right, I suppose. It took a while to admit it to myself. I felt kinda creepy, you know? Thinking you were hot. Even if I could separate it from my work during sessions, it seemed kinda rude.”

It feels good, Parker realizes, to unburden himself like this. It’s only as he talks about it out loud that he realizes the massive weight of the guilt he’s been carrying around for weeks now, and he can feel it dissipating like carbonation bubbles.

"Wasn't rude," Harp murmurs when Parker reaches the end of his monologue. His voice is rough with sleep. He fumbles for Parker's hand under the sheet. "I would've never... wanted you to sleep anywhere but here."

Harp brings Parker's hand, fingers laced with his, up to kiss the back of it.

“You’re not actually listening to me, are you?” Parker teases.

"I'm trying, baby,” he says, clearly fighting hard—and failing—to stay awake.

Parker, still a little drunk off of Harp and the night and the orgasm, shifts for a moment, craning his neck up to plant a kiss on Harp’s cheek. He suddenly is full of energy, like he could go out and run a 5k. He grins.

“I like when you call me that,” he says.

He knows he’s revealing too much of himself, being honest and vulnerable in a way that can only lead to harm—it’s what has always been his downfall. He was madly in love with Cole after just a few weeks, and look how that had turned out. Still, there’s a hope, a light, in Parker, that he’s never been able to ignore.

What if this is it? What if this is who you’re really happy with? What if this is the person who finally, really loves you?

"I like calling you that," Harp says, his words slow and syrupy. "I want to listen to... everything you have to say. I really do. But I think I'm—" and Harp breaks for a yawn that he struggles to keep inaudible. "I think I'm falling asleep. And I don't want to miss... maybe you can tell me.... over breakfast."

“Okay,” Parker says, relenting at last. He wriggles up to kiss Harp once more on the mouth, and then another one for good measure. “Go to sleep, silly.”

Parker can’t help it.

He watches Harp sleep.

He’s just so wound up, suddenly, and it’s the only thing he wants to do. He could go downstairs, play on his phone, text Mindy, cuddle with Bo, get a snack.

But all he wants to do is be here in Harp’s arms, listening to him breath, seeing the shadows his features cast in the moonlight.

He’s smiling so hard it hurts, and his chest is so full he can hardly breathe.

Everything is perfect, he thinks.

He’s never been so happy to be Parker James.

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