Chapter Text
It took a couple of days for Collie to get Barkovitch back. After the dust settled on their grand reunion and his birthday outing, they were both reminded that everything was still fresh, raw skin pink fresh. That Sunday, he had sat down and told Collie about the little conversation Meemaw had with him, or at least some of it. He could tell there was more than he was letting on, could see him debating whether to let some aspects slip. Collie knew not to push him; if anything, it made him more upset that it was worse than Barkovitch was letting on. He'd sat quietly and listened, not wanting to put off Gary with his anger. He was fucking boiling, so fucking heartbroken that his boy was treated that way by someone Collie knows Gary loves. Even after everything, he still finds it in him to defend her, refuses to accept that she would hurt him, and even if she did, surely she had a reason. Collie thinks he knows. He doesn't know if he'll do anything about it.
Parker decided he'd try to focus on what he could control, and a few days into the week, he took it upon himself to take Gary out on a date. It took a bit of convincing, him still deadset on sulking for another day, but Collie dragged him out with the promise of buying good coffee and as many film magazines as he wanted.
They had found themselves walking into a new record store, dark cherry-red hardwood squeaking under the sneakers of the man stocking the shelves, people on album covers staring back at them. Collie was interested, hoping that with its new shiny floors came new shiny records, better selection than the place farther in town. The two wandered the small store, Collie giving the man working a friendly nod as he passed him. He wondered if he was the only one working, or if there was someone burrowed away in the back. Given the 'Help Wanted' sign plastered on the store window, he could assume he might be running this ship solo. Oh well, not like they'd be much of a bother.
Gary was hidden away in the back, viciously searching for a record he swore he saw someone in here holding the other day (he was always known to people watch), and Collie could hear him carding through shelves, refusing to ask for help as he told him to. "Fuck yes!"
Collie startled at the exclamation, having gotten caught up reading the mini biographies under the frames of superstars. Gary poked his head out from behind the shelf. "Fuckin' told you, Parker, I knew what I saw—didn't need any help, neither. I'm just that good," he smugly waved the black and red vinyl sleeve.
"Pardon me, I guess", responded Collie, rolling his eyes as he made his way into the corner Gary had wedged himself into.
He became increasingly covered in darkness as he inched towards him, the blonde's back hitting the ladder against the backshelf as he tried to playfully keep the distance. Gary visibly swallowed, Collie watching his Adam's apple move with the action. "Dark back here," he said, taking in the cramped space, his closeness to Barkovitch making it all the more tight.
Gary averted his eyes from the man in front of him. "I ever tell you I worked in a music store?" he breathed out, looking up into the taller man's eyes.
Collie took the record from his hands, setting it down on the small bench next to them. "Nope."
"Well," one kiss to his lips. "I did—Mmgh, when I was like sixteen," a few more. His eyes kept darting to the left, listening for the employee's footsteps. Well, Collie couldn't have him distracted now, could he?
His lips are on his again, nipping at his bottom lip, an arm finding itself around his waist. "Yeah?"
Gary softly laughed, not even hiding his amusement. "Uh-huh. Was a major dick to everyone." Collie kissed down Gary's jaw, humming in acknowledgement. Barkovitch flinched away, giggling, hair tickling his neck. He returned to his mouth, pressing soft kisses against his smile. "Oh, I can imagine. Better or worse than you now?"
Gary scoffed. "Wayyy worse. Surprised they never fired my ass." his arms wrapped themselves around Parker's neck, underneath the smoothness of his hair. Collie kissed down the inside of Gary's arms, just loving enough to make Barkovitch roll his eyes. "Was just too good to fire, huh?"
Gary leaned up to leave his own kiss, wincing as they bumped their noses together. "Guess so, was a big hit with the elderly, once they got over the sissy hair," he dryly laughed at the last bit.
Collie pulled him closer, "Mmm, I like the sissy hair," he whispered into Gary's ear, biting it before getting a swift hit to the neck. 'Get the fuck off me," he said through a pout, glaring at Collie's crooked, smitten smile. "Boring," he snarked, giving his own glare back, capturing Gary's lips again. The blonde sighs into his mouth, spreading his palms against his back and arching into Collie's hold. He whimpers as Collie swirls his tongue against his, leaning further back onto the ladder, squeaking when Parker nips at his bottom lip. They both hardly give themselves time to breathe, so close they're inhaling each other's air, making themselves pleasantly dizzy. Collie gave Barkovitch a dopey smile, finding his flushed panting absurdly sweet.
"Have I said I missed you yet?"
Gary petunlately groaned. "Jesus, Parker, only a million fuckin' times," and that gap was closed again.
They were more frantic now, gripping at each other, Collie touching the bare skin underneath his shirt and the other hand in the back pocket of his jeans, grabbing his ass, Gary moaning into his mouth. Barkovitch was tugging him closer, combing his fingers through the other man's hair, and fuck all they could taste was each other—
The two abruptly pull away at the sound of something—a plastic plant?— crashing to the ground. Oops.
"Everything alright?" called the man at the front, voice laced with annoyance.
Gary was beet red, still stunned from the bang of the little cactus. Collie gave an apologetic smile. "All good!" They both scurried out of the corner after that.
Gary was terribly embarrassed the rest of the afternoon and made Collie do the talking at the register, unable to face the poor guy working the till. Parker had to reassure him ten times over that he won't even remember their faces by tomorrow, but thankfully, some food and a stack of magazines in his hands were enough to lift his spirits.
—
It's been 2 days since their date, and it's the first time Gary has been in Collie's bed in 2 weeks. He was passed out on his side, sheets half on, not covering much outside of his feet. They had been telling each other stories from their childhood, bullshit they got up to in high school, and Gary had just naturally drifted off on his third story of his sisters getting him into trouble. He had told him his voice was soothing once, "gets you real calm and shit", when they got high last month, so it was cute to see it actually happen.
His face was slightly smushed against a pillow, his head having lolled to the side when sleep overtook him. He had his arm wrapped around his own middle, covering the sliver of skin left by his rucked-up shirt and low-hanging sweats. His hair was all rumpled and frizzy, his lips slightly parted as he breathed softly. He was so pretty. Looked like a little angel, freshly made and new to heaven, so beautiful it had no clue what to do with itself but be. A face like that had no right to have spent so long scrunched up in angry scowls and silent cries.
Collie curled himself next to the sleeping boy, watching the fingers by his head twitch every few minutes, occasional sniffles and huffs leaving him when stray locks get in his face. Parker's hands found themselves on Gary's face, stroking the apple of his cheek, face warming at the way Barkovitch leaned into him. Sweet thing.
Collie was trying to ignore it, the tugging remnants of everything he felt in the last few weeks, but god it was hard. He didn't expect to see Gary the way he was, act the way he did, not to that degree. Even now, he could see when Barkovitch trailed off the deeper he got into his stories of home, waving Collie off when asked, like he didn't want to tell him the ending. Collie was bright enough to know why. Could assume the story of him running away from home for like 10 hours didn't end pretty, why his laugh shook whenever talking about the bullshit from his church.
Seeing him around that woman recontextualised so much of what he knew of Gary, and so much of that inflicted pain had come from her, and he was still so desperate for her to love him. It made Collie's head hurt. He had been keeping himself up thinking about Barkovitch since his birthday, and he tried so hard to let it be, but fuck, he loved him too much to do that. How could he let him keep hurting himself over and over without saying anything—without trying? It's not like he's oblivious; Collie knows Gary knows, that's why he doesn't talk about it.
Despite what he thinks, he's not very good at masking if you know what to look for, and it's rare for him not to be on edge when talking about his life before Maine. He'd cry to him some nights, the hard nights when guilt ate away at him and he just needed Collie to hold him. They wouldn't speak about it. Collie learned very quickly that he'd just shut down and curl in on himself if he tried. He thought it was getting better, and in some aspects it was, but the more Parker thought, the more he wondered if it was just stewing, hidden underneath awkward chuckles and chewed on lips, with Meemaw's visit causing it to finally boil over. And that overflowing shame burned; he sure acted like it did, and Collie tried his best to soothe it, but there's only so much he could do to treat the singed skin if Barkovitch wouldn't get out of the fucking fire.
He was so maddeningly frustrating sometimes, Collie just wanted to fucking shake him, beg him to want better for himself, scream at whatever kept him small and scared and rip that knot of guilt and shame twisted inside of him and free himself of the shackles he's let drag behind him all the way from the fucking south.
He moved that hand into the empty one that rested on the pillow, limply holding it as he kept watching the blonde's chest rise and fall. He caressed the faint marks and scratches on his palm, few still scabbed over from the angry red things they were. Gary softly sneezed again, hair tickling his nose, until Collie finally brushes it back. He needs to talk to him.
—
A day passes before he gets the opportunity to have Barkovitch alone. He sat on the floor of his dorm room, staring at the hastily made bed across from him, dog eared booked stacked on the nightstand. He had debated asking Richie for any sort of advice, but he concluded it would just get in his head more.
Gary was showering, the rush of water hitting the shower tile muffled by the shut door. He heard him yawn, the towel against his back, him bumping into the sink—probably his hip—and the yelp that followed, the zip of his hoodie, all before the doorknob turned.
Gary comes out, still flushed from the heat of the shower, looking confused about Collie's place on the floor.
"Fuck're you doing?"
"Can we talk?" Collie saw the way Gary tensed.
The blonde shuffled next to him, slowly bringing himself downwards, like sitting would solidify whatever he feared was going to happen. "Um, Sure."
Okay. "I'm not mad at you, okay, it's not that, I just," Collie bit his lip, turning away from the man next to him, staring at his lap. "We didn't really talk about the whole thing, you know…"
Barkovitch balled up his fists, and Collie could see the instinct to flee rapidly forming.
He put his hand on Gary's anxiously bouncing thigh, trying to level his thoughts. "I'm not asking you to tell me anything right now, I just—I just need to talk to you." He pushed his hair out of his face, resting his hands on his shoulders.
"Listen, man. I know you love that woman, real fucking bad, and I'm not saying you're wrong for it, that's not how it works, I know that, she's your grandmother and shit, I just," He turns away, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to gather his thoughts.
"I couldn't fucking bare seeing you like that man, fuck—you looked scared and so sad all the time and you weren't even talking to me and I tried asking Harkness every damn day but i just got nothing, there was nothing, then your birthday happened and you've never cried like that—not infront of me, not about that—I didnt know what to do Gary,"
Gary had gone all wide-eyed, clearly not expecting his outburst. "I'm rambling. Sorry. I just, fuck, Gary, I don't want to see you like that again," he paused.
"Is that what's going to happen every time you see her?" his tone was pleading, his brows furrowed together, distressed.
Gary tried to fight back, "N-No—"
"Gonna come back wrong?"
"Collie it's not—"
"How many times until you just don't come back?"
"Thats not gonna fucking happen, Parker—"
Collie moves to face Gary dead on, leaning closer to his face, palms digging into the old carpet floor, and hair falling back to his face. "Fine. Then how many times will I have to build up your fucking tolerance of me, huh? I'll do it, I'll always do it once you want me to, but fuck Gary, do you think it feels good? Think I like seeing you look me dead in the eyes and still choose to run? To have you flinch away from me like I'm some fucking disease I'm infecting you with? I don't want to have to do that again—"
"Then fucking don't!" Gary spits out, fighting tears and leaning away from him. "You say all this shit, fucking fine, whatever, leave me the fuck alone then! Why do you keep bothering—"
"Cuz I fucking love you, man!" The artificial glare that had kept Gary's tears from spilling widened, and Collie found him quiet again, eyes wet and darting.
"I do all this because I love you, Gary and I don't like seeing you hurting, I don't, and I feel so fucking helpless to do anything."
Silence.
"It'd be different if you just didn't like me, alright—which you do, right?"
"God, Collie course, course I do," his voice sounded so small, tapering off at the end.
Parker squeezed his hand in response. "I don't know how to navigate this, knowing you could go home this summer and come back too scared to be with me anymore. Thats—it's not fair to me, Gary."
He still couldn't hold his gaze. "I told you, I don't want to keep this up if it's hurting you, man."
Tears were running down Gary's cheeks. He wasn't sure when they got there. "Are," the blonde's voice trembled. "Are you breaking up with me?"
Christ— "Fuck Barkovitch, no, I'm asking—God no," He put his hands on Gary's shoulders, trying to ground him, stop his mind from running farther than it needed to.
"I'm not forcing your hand, alright? But I just want a little reassurance—I don't want it to just stay like this, her and all those people looming over you. I—fuck, I just don't want you to feel like that again."
Gary stayed silent, nodding, trying to blink away the rest of his tears.
Collie's face softened at the sight. "Cmere,"
He scooped him up in his arms, letting his head rest on his shoulders. His body jerked in his hold, damp spot forming on the shoulder of his shirt.
Words finally left the man in his arms, wobbly and slightly hoarse. "I'm sorry," Poor thing.
"I don't know what to—I'm sorry—"
"Shh. I don't need an answer now, I just…I just need you to think on it for me, alright?"
There was then more furious nodding, a tiny yelp when Barkovitch accidentally knocked his forehead on his collarbone. Collie cooed at him, rubbing his thumb over where he hurt, before tipping up his jaw, so they could be face to face.
"Promise me you'll think about it. That you'll keep trying,"
Gary blinks up at him, leaning into his chest, a shakily exhaling. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Mhm, swear," he burrowed further into his chest. Collie let him, letting his own head rest on the mess of fair, frizzy hair. "You're not mad at me?" his eyes were glassy and a bit red from how fucking hard he wiped away his tears. He's always so rough with himself.
Collie petted him, lightly scratching at his nape as he spoke. "No baby," he kissed his forehead. "Just worried."
Before he got too comfortable, Collie (with much protest) lifted Barkovitch from his place in his lap to lay them both down on the creaky mattress. After Barkovitch got of fill of grovelling, he settled back on Collie's chest, letting their breathing sync as they wordlessly decided to enjoy the quiet of the sunset with a few pillows under them; the floor kinda itched anyway.