Page 252 of Untouchable

Gil’s expression is pained, and he holds up his hands in surrender.

“Please—no—I give up—have mercy—”

"You sure you don't wanna hear about how he completes me or how he makes me the man I was always born to beor—"

"La la la, I am not hearing this," Gil says in a singsong voice with his fingers in his ears.

"Come off it," Harp says with a laugh. "I've had to listen to you go on about how many different ill-fated crushes you've had?"

"That's different—I wasn't in my forties—"

"Oh yeah, heaven forbid someone over the age of 35 finds love," Harp says—and as soon as the word love is on his tongue, his brain comes to a halt. Time to shift the subject, he realizes, unless he wants his thinking process to come to a total grinding stop. "How's, uh, dating been? You haven't mentioned anybody in a few months, it seems like."

Gil’s expression immediately goes flat.

“Not much to report on,” he says, in a tone that’s trying—and failing—to be casual. “Should I un-pause the movie?”

"That sounds like there's plenty to report on. What happened?" Harp asked, going a little gentler with his questioning. It wasn't like Gil to avoid this topic in particular, and it makes him wary. If someone hurt Gil, he wants to know what happened—even though there's probably nothing he can do to help.

“Oh god,” Gil says, with a forced smile. “Are you really going to make me talk about this?”

"Yeah, what the fuck," Harp says, a little hurt and a little guilty all at once.

Things with Parker had taken over his attention—for better or worse—and although the better far outweighed the worse, Harp had neglected to keep up with Gil at the same pace as they normally did.

Suddenly, a lot of things begin to rearrange themselves in Harp's mind about the visit. Maybe it wasn't an attack on Harp's new relationship. Maybe Gil had actually missed Harp, whether he knew it or not.

"What happened?" Harp insists after Gil doesn't immediately offer any details.

Gil looks down at his drink, swirling it around the glass for a moment. He opens his mouth to make a joke—Harp can tell by his expression—but then stops and sighs.

“I was kind of… seeing this guy,” he says. “Well, not even seeing. We were fucking, basically. And I kept hoping it would turn into more, but I guess he wasn’t interested. Finally I told him that if he wanted to be with me, it couldn’t be just as friends with benefits. And now we’re not friends and there aren’t benefits anymore. It’s whatever.”

He stares off out the dark window, his jaw tight, looking uncharacteristically embarrassed.

"That's fucked up, Gil," Harp says. "I'm really sorry. When did all that go down?"

"Early October through a week ago. Well, I've known him for longer than that."

"Not Jaylen," Harp guesses, his heart dropping. He remembered what a thing Gil had for him.

"Yeah," Gil says with a half-smile. "I didn't think you'd know who I meant."

"No, I remember you met him at that thing this summer—a short film festival or something? I could tell you really liked him."

Gil shrugs.

“Yup, I did,” he says. “But, ah, it wasn’t mutual.”

"Hey," Harp says. He waits until Gil looks up at him, reluctantly. "I'm sorry I've been so absent."

Gil snorts and screws his face up like Harp is crazy. "Uh, I'm the one who's always telling you to go out and get a life," Gil says, lapsing into a tone of voice that's meant to communicate that everything is great and always has been great and always will be great so his big brother shouldn't worry about him. "You went out and got one—I'm just surprised."

"It's not like that," Harp says, rolling his eyes. "I've been acting like a teenager—I've barely even called."

"I was glad. I mean, it's good that you're... doing good. Anyway, let's start the movie up again, okay?"

Harp sighs and decides to let it go.

It doesn't feel good to know that he's hurt his brother, but at least things make a little more sense to him.

By the time the movie ends, they've both worked up a running commentary about the soundtrack and RZA and how odd it was that in a way Wu Tang had paved the way for a modern jazz and hip hop renaissance—and that tangent had led to another, Gil Googling his favorite new bands and forcing Harp through several tracks, which led to another tangent, and another.

By 3 a.m., Harp realizes that they've been talking for hours about nothing, and he's having a hard time connecting ideas. But it feels good to have this with Gil again, to fall into this rhythm. He and Parker don't have conversations like this—and Harp realizes that that's alright. They talk about things that are just as real—people, the world around them, the big stuff and the little things and everything in between. It's simply different than the way he talks to Gil, but no less satisfying.

"I'm gonna pass out before I fall asleep in the middle of a sentence," Harp says, hefting himself up from the couch. "You headed to bed?"

“Yeah,” Gil says. “I might stay up a little longer... still on West Coast time. But, uh—I had a lot of fun tonight. And... sorry I crashed your Christmas. But... I am glad I got to see you.”

"I'm glad to see you too. I'm glad you're here," Harp says, and means it.

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