Page 269 of Untouchable

* * *

"Wooow,"Gil says, drawing out the word in a way that's undeniably sarcastic.

Parker shoots Harp a look that Harp doesn't feel like interpreting, suddenly.

Harp is exhausted. He feels as if he could set his head down on the bar right now and go to sleep. He feels almost panicked at how tired he is—like maybe he should ask the two of them to give him the keys so he can go sleep in the car until they're done with dinner.

It's been a long time since Harp has been trapped anywhere. It's been since his hospital stay, after the accident.

He hates this. He should be defending Parker or calling Gil out and instead he's sitting here, pitying himself.

But he's been defending Parker at every turn since Gil arrived and it's exhausting. Everything adds to the weariness Harp feels across his back, in his muscles, in the ache of his hip that’s seizing from sitting on the barstool.

I’m too drunk,he realizes. Suddenly he can’t remember if he’s on his fourth or fifth drink. The room begins to come back to him, the cacophony.

Harp has been arguing over and over again to Gil that Parker has depth and warmth and maturity, only to turn around and listen to Parker phrase things in the most painfully confusing, surface-level way. Of course Gil thinks he's an idiot—and sure it's Gil's fault to begin with for showing up here uninvited and interrupting and never giving Parker the benefit of the doubt—but somewhere in him as Harp collapses in on himself, he wishes Parker would have the power to just stand up for himself for once, to not be afraid, to realize that he's capable of so much more.

Harp loves being his rock—how it makes him feel when he’s able to be strong for Parker. But Harp feels… so weak in this moment. Jumbled and desperate, he wishes there was someone to rescue him right now, and he knows it can’t be Parker or Gil.

As he despairs, Parker rattles off another litany of um, like, you knows?—and despite how much he knows in his heart that Parker is the center of his universe, Harp cringes now as Parker continues to fuel Gil’s contempt.

Harp wants to go home. He wants his dogs. He wants to be alone.

It's not Parker's fault or Gil's fault or the restaurant's fault or any one thing's fault. This simply isn't something he is equipped for and he knows it and he is tapping out as he gives into the impulse to keep sipping the ice cold whiskey and checking out from the conversation.

* * *

Gil is lookingat Parker with an eyebrow raised, and Harp still isn’t saying anything. Parker realizes his jaw is clenched. There’s no way to interpret Gil’s response as anything less than hostile. But Gil is Harp’s beloved baby brother. He knows if he makes Harp choose between them—

Parker shakes himself. There’s no sides. There’s no war. This is just a dinner out with one person he cares about and another he’s going to learn to care about.

So what if he feels like he’s playing some weird kind of mental chess with Gil that he doesn’t know the rules to? So what if doubt is creeping in that maybe the reason Gil clearly thinks so little of Parker is because he’s simply mirroring what Harp thinks?

So what if Parker is suddenly miserable, feeling strangely abandoned by Harp, and feeling guilty for that feeling?

“So, um, do you have any pets?” Parker blurts out, plastering a too-wide smile on his face.

* * *

Oh, Parker,Harp thinks through the haze of alcohol. I do love you so much.

It's true. It's awful and true and it makes Harp feel ten times more helpless. Parker is so perfect. Gil walks all over him, acts like such a prick and Parker is still trying so hard, trying his heart out, asking about Gil's goddamn pets.

Harp paws under the bar, finding Parker's hand and squeezing it abruptly.

"No," Gil says brusquely. "I'm sorry Parker—I actually wasn't trying to be a dick, I just can't believe this freaking wait is taking so long. I'm embarrassed I brought you guys here."

"It's fine," Harp says, realizing only when his voice is hoarse how long it's been since he chimed in.

They both give him an odd look and Gil pushes back from the bar.

"I'm going to go find the bathroom. If they try to seat you while I'm gone, just go with it and I'll settle up the tab before I come to the table."

“It’s no problem, really,” Parker says. He goes to take a sip of his second drink and Harp watches him realize that it’s empty. Harp’s glass is empty now, too.

They both watch Gil slip away into the crowd before Parker turns, angling himself towards Harp.

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly, so no one overhears him. “Is the crowd making you anxious?”

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