Page 45 of Untouchable

“Yeah, you know,”Parker says.

Fuck. Why did you even say that, Parker?

Harp’s voice takes on a sudden edge, and a pit forms in Parker’s stomach. He’d just assumed Harp had realized he was gay, but apparently Harp didn’t know. And Parker had just effectively outed himself. He really, really, really hopes that Harp, who seems kind and liberal and open-minded, isn’t somehow a giant homophobe.

So much for that friendship,he thinks miserably.

Harp’s still staring at him, so Parker swallows and continues.

“Yeah, like, um…. a girl?”

He wants to close his eyes and run away as soon as he says it.

"You're gay?" Harp blurts.

Parker wants to curl up and die. They’re right at the steps of Harp’s house and Parker pauses, not meeting Harp’s stare.

“If—if that makes you uncomfortable, we don’t have to—”

The lightness he’d felt just a few minutes ago has vanished, and he feels empty and defeated. This, unfortunately, wouldn’t be the first time he’s had a male client take issue with his sexuality. He looks down at the ground, bracing himself for whatever comes next.

Harp waves him off, shaking his head.

"No, not at all—I'm gay too. I don't know why I thought—you and Mindy—Jesus, Parker do clients ever give you a hard time about being gay?"

Parker nearly trips over his own feet trying to process the landslide of information Harp has casually dumped on him.

Harp is gay?A little part of his brain has sat up, cocking its head like a dog awaiting a biscuit, and he pushes the thought away.

* * *

His mind is threateningto dart in ten different directions and it's chosen the one least fraught with peril: protecting Parker from asshole clients.

“Er—yeah,” Parker says. “I mean—it doesn’t happen a lot, but—”

Parker seems to shrink as he thinks about the memory, shoving his hands into the pockets of his zip-up hoodie.

“I had a client walk out once. He… he started saying, like, a bunch of homophobic stuff so I… asked him not to, and then—I dunno. It was bad,” he says. “I mean, luckily my boss is really awesome, y’know? So, um, now that guy has, like, a lifetime ban at Rocky Mountain. But… yeah, it was… shitty.”

Harp is instantly sorry he asked because he's furious about the story and there's nothing he can do about it. Short of following Parker to his appointments like some distressing massage therapy bouncer, there's nothing Harp can do to protect guys like Parker and Harp's own little brother from how shitty the world is.

At least with Gil, Harp can offer advice and money and be someone he wants to talk to. Harp has nothing to offer Parker, and now all he's done is pry into an ugly memory that he's sure Parker would rather forget.

"Fuck that guy," Harp says, the curse cutting the air. "People are the worst."

Parker just rubs the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable to have shared the story.

Harp hates to be reductive, but he finds himself reevaluating everything he knows about Parker—just because he's gay.

He's been holding something up between the two of them, he realizes: a gossamer-thin but spider-silk tough barrier that Harp doesn't allow people to cross until they have good reason to. But he's confided something big in Parker now, and so has Parker in turn.

Harp had already trusted Parker, designated him as being safer than a stranger. But knowing that he's gay—that he grew up in a marginalized way that Harp can understand, even if their circumstances were disparate—makes it different. Knowing that Harp is speaking to someone who doesn't assume, on a basic level, that Harp is a bad person because of things he can't change—makes it different.

Parker is safe on a new level. The invisible curtain falls.

Then the oddest thing happens: Parker whirls on him with a confused and delighted smile on his face.

“Oh no, Harp,” he says, and he’s laughing already, as if Harp’s curse had somehow banished the bad memory like a good piece of witchcraft. “We’re such idiots.”

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