Page 166 of Untouchable

Parker feels awful—miserable and mean and small—when he sees the hurt look on Harp’s face. He doesn’t want to make Harp feel bad, but, at the same time, he needs Harp to understand how he’s feeling.

“I don’t—I don’t know where I stand with you,” Parker says finally. He wraps his arms tighter around himself—he’s shivering now, but he hardly notices. “You do these things—fixing things for me and rescuing me and taking care of me—that are these… grand gestures, but then—sometimes I still feel like I barely even know you. I get that… there’s shit in your past you don’t want to talk about. But, fuck, Harp, I don’t even know your middle name. I don’t know what town you grew up in. I’m not asking for you to, like, air your dirty laundry and tell me your darkest secrets. But there’s a wall up inside you somewhere, Harp, and sometimes I feel like—like you’re never going to let me see what’s behind it.”

As soon as he says it, he feels a strange, hollow relief. It’s not a good feeling, per se, but he feels a clarity he hasn’t felt in weeks. He realizes he’s finally articulated the source of the low-grade anxiety that’s been plaguing him, because although Harp says he cares and goes through the motions, there is a deeper fear lurking that, perhaps, it’s just a cover hiding a different person entirely, someone Harp will never trust Parker enough to show him.

* * *

"Parker,I've only known you for a few months, and I've been alone for years. Since you were a child," Harp says, his voice pleading. "You're in. I've let you in. You don't know every minute of my life but... we've spent time together. You know who I am. I'm not trying to keep big parts of myself from you—I'm just trying to remember what it means to actually share them with somebody."

He takes a step back, feeling suddenly like he should offer to call Parker a car rather than assume he'll want a ride home. He'd already been buying them burgers and milkshakes in his head, lingering in Parker's apartment to make sure he was feeling okay, waiting until Mindy got home and then passing babysitting duty over.

Or even, he realizes, spending the night again if Parker would let him so that he could make sure Parker wakes up in the morning safe and sound.

And now, he's managed to fuck it up by doing nothing more than being his own neurotic self.

"I get it, though. I said it all, right? We've known each other a few months and I'm acting like we live together."

* * *

Parker runshis hand through his hair. He has no idea what to say or what to do. He doesn’t want to fight with Harp, who’s so good to him, who treats him so well, who is so well-intentioned, even if his ideas don’t always land. Who, when compared to Cole, is such a better boyfriend that it’s almost laughable. And Parker can’t deny that Harp has a point. Parker can’t even begin to comprehend what it must be like to go through life as Harp, but it’s unfair to expect everyone he meets to wear their heart on their sleeve like Parker does.

He is sotired.

He doesn’t know what he should do, so he does the thing he wants to do. He closes the space between them, throwing his arms around Harp’s middle and burrowing his head against Harp’s chest.

“Just… ask me first, next time,” Parker mumbles.

So many times before, when they’ve held one another, it’s felt as though Parker was melting into Harp, but now it’s Parker supporting them as Harp rests his head against Parker. It feels good. Parker sniffles again. He has so much he needs to tell Harp, but he doesn’t trust himself to find the words.

“Thank you,” he says softly. “For—for taking care of me. And for trying. Even if it… wasn’t quite the right thing. But—I do appreciate it.”

Harp is quiet still, and Parker draws a deep breath.

“And… I’ll try, too, okay? To… trust that you are letting me in, even if… even if sometimes it doesn’t feel like it. I’ll try to remember that… not everyone is a chronic oversharer like me.”

He laughs weakly.

“But… thank you, Harp.”

* * *

Harp hates feeling this fragile,hates putting his own happiness and wellbeing in someone else's hands. He's so brutish and so separated from the world, separated from how real people act and react and feel about things, that he knows he's going to ruin things somehow, and he knows this should push him further away from Parker.

This is the fear at the base of it all—that he’ll misstep and he’ll be pushed away.

But somehow, he can only appreciate the thought that his worst case scenario had happened and... he is forgiven. He is accepted in this moment. He hangs his head, resting the full weight of it on Parker's shoulder.

"You don't have to thank me," Harp says. "Thank you. And I'm sorry this happened." He steps back a little to look at Parker's face.

"I'd like to take you to your apartment and take care of you tonight," Harp says, being clear and hoping that he doesn't sound patronizing. "Is that... Can I do that? I'll need to go home for a little while once Mindy gets to the apartment, to feed the dogs and let them out. But I'll come back."

* * *

Parker smiles—it’ssmall, because he’s still so exhausted that a full grin feels like a herculean effort, but his heart feels full. He does like when Harp takes care of him, when Harp treats him as though he’s the center of Harp’s universe.

And he knows Harp is trying.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’d like that. You really don’t have to come all the way back down—it’s a long way—but… I’d really like it for you to stay for a while.”

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