Page 60 of Untouchable

"Is that... something you want?" Harp asks cautiously.

The answer is no, obviously, because Parker wants so much more, but he bursts out laughing. He’ll take what he can get.

“Are you kidding me, dude?” he says. He takes his hands out of his pockets, throwing his arms out wide to accentuate his point. “I think you’re like, the coolest person in the world. And—you’re nice to me. You put up with me even though I talk a lot and you don’t make me feel bad when I don’t understand something. But like, I wasn’t going to be like, hey, I know you’re paying me to fix your hip but, like, what if I force you to be my friend instead, you know?”

He feels like his whole body is fizzing in the most pleasant way. Harp wants to be his friend. Harp wants Parker in his life, in some capacity beyond a person who comes up once a week according to schedule and performs therapy. Harp cares about him.

Parker knows he’s probably getting ahead of himself, that he’s practically picking out colors for matching friendship bracelets, but he doesn’t even care.

I know I can trust you.

How can such a simple sentence mean so much?

* * *

"Well.All you had to do was ask," Harp lies, turning to face the night instead of Parker.

He decides not to light the cigarette he's been worrying this entire time and slips it into his pocket instead.

He's beaming. It's thrilling. When one refuses to make any inferences about the people around them, he realizes, it's a hell of a thing to finally receive that confirmation in plain English. In a way I can trust, he realizes.

It feels terrible and wonderful to be interesting to someone, to see that his work to be kind has been appreciated.

It's terrifying how much power Parker has over him. A moment ago he'd been guarded, then falling over himself to get Parker to forgive him, and now this elation. No one but Harp should have that much control over his destiny and yet—

It's worth it.It feels good enough to make the risk worth it.

Parker throws his head back, looking at the clouds, so low now that they seem just out of reach. It’s starting to snow again, and as Harp watches, Parker smiles and sticks his tongue out, catches a snowflake on it, tastes it, and then the oddest thing happens. Parker bursts out laughing.

It’s a good sound. It puts the oxygen back in his lungs.

“What?” Harp asks.

* * *

“I dunno,”Parker says, still smiling widely. “I feel like I’ve felt more emotions in the past five minutes than I have all year. I—I—” He pauses just in time to keep the truth from cascading out. “I’m happy now, though.”

He’d meant to say, I want you to like me. Or maybe, I don’t know why I want that so badly. Or even, I do know why, and it scares me.

"Likewise," Harp says. "Let's go back inside."

Harp’s voice sounds lighter, unguarded once more. When they head back inside, Parker is giddy as he hangs up the coat and steps out of the oversized shoes. He cocks his head at Harp and grins crookedly.

“So now will you drink with me?” he asks playfully. “Or are you still convinced I’m up to something?”

Harp’s face is suddenly grave, and Parker’s heart drops.

"You think you're slick, but I know exactly what you're up to," he says.

"What?" he says.

"You're a dog-napper. I see your tricks. You’re going to run off with Bo and Gunny and Petunia in the night.” There’s a glint in Harp’s eye, and Parker laughs.

“I would never,” Parker says, glaring at Harp. He raises his chin imperiously. “Now go pour me a drink while I steal your dogs.”

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