25
Harp letshimself be miserable for a moment as Parker's ride disappears.
It's been a long time since he's been at rock bottom, but it's not as if the position is unfamiliar to him.
Angry, hurt, confused, and most of all exhausted, Harp ends up walking far enough away from the front of the restaurant not to be a nuisance and sinking to the curb, chain smoking, watching the door, and trying to decide whether he should call his own ride or go back in and face Gil.
After an unknown passage of time when Harp has gone far away from himself as he smoked an unknown number of cigarettes, Gil makes up his mind for him, appearing at the front of the restaurant obviously looking around for Harp.
“Harp—” he says, his voice tight with concern. “Jesus. Where the fuck have you been?”
"I needed to smoke. I figured you'd settle up the bill with whatever I left. Sorry," Harp says. He's not sorry—he just doesn't know what else to say. "Are you ready?"
Gil shoves his hands in his pockets, and for a moment he looks fragile, younger than his 26 years.
“I mean, do you wanna get some stuff to go or something?”
"Not really. Do you? I can come back in, if you need me to."
He's on autopilot, noticing the way Gil's silhouette is sharp, backlit.
“Are you mad at me?” he says in a small voice.
"Nope," Harp says, and he realizes suddenly that he isn't mad at Gil. He's mad and hurt and confused and fucked up, but it doesn't feel like it's Gil's fault, when he looks at the big picture.
If anything, Gil is a force of nature, pushing this thing to its head now to save him heartache later.
And some dark, very drunk part of Harp reminds him that Gil is now his only ally left in the world.
"No," Harp says, heaving up from the curb. "I'm not mad at you, but I'm about ready to head out."
“Look—” Gil says, his voice harsh, tinged with desperation. “I stand by what I said, okay? And, yeah, maybe I could have said it better. I’m not exactly known for my tact. But—Harp, he’s using you. Didn’t you see how he didn’t even answer anything I said directly? He acts like he’s taking the high road but it’s just an excuse to weasel away from someone calling him out on—on manipulatingyou.”
"I don't need to keep talking about it. You've made your point," Harp says, trying to be gentle. Maybe someday Harp will be able to absolve him of his role in this but not yet, not before he can even mourn what's been lost.
Gil crosses his arms.
“You are mad,” he says. Gil sits down heavily on the curb and plucks the package of cigarettes from Harp’s hand, pulling out his own lighter and lighting it. He’s quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry if this wasn’t how you expected the night to go.”
"I just want to go home," Harp says. "Can we do that? I don't care if you smoke in my car."
Gil opens his mouth, then shuts it again.
“Fine,” he says at last. When he stands up, he doesn’t look at Harp, simply walking towards where they’d parked.
Harp knows he should be worried about whether or not he's upsetting Gil, or whether or not he's ruining the night worse.
But it's almost as if he's turned his mind off—or not his mind, maybe, but his heart. He couldn't force himself to feel anything if he wanted to.
The warmth of the car, when they get to it, when it is heated up and chugging the 45 minutes home from Mink Creek, is suffocating and Harp finds that his head is swimming by the time they've made it past the two switchbacks that represent the last patch of paved road before Storm Mountain.
Harp rolls down the window, sucking in frigid air and trying not to vomit.
When they finally reach the driveway, Gil turns off the car but doesn’t move to get out.
“I’ve missed you a lot, Harp,” he says quietly. “I mean, I know the phone works both ways, and I haven’t been very good about keeping in touch. But I love you, and once I’m back in Portland I wanna make more of an effort to talk to you. Regularly.”
Harp shakes his head. "I've told you a thousand times that I want you out living life instead of worrying about me," Harp says. He hauls himself out of the car, not waiting for Gil and walking straight to the door.