Park did not break his stride when Cooper entered, he just kept walking back and forth. When he’d get to the wall he’d knock his shoulder against it as if furious at its presence and then stomp back to the bed and knock the same shoulder against the mattress. Boogie was intent on stalking his heels, alternating between staring at Park’s ankles and lunging after them in tiny bursts of frantic movement, desperately trying to get her mouth around one. Park didn’t even seem to notice her. He was growling, punctuated by an occasional snarl and jerk of his head as if starting to snap at something on his back and then thinking better of it.
Cooper had the sudden, disorientating sensation of being alone. Separate. Monologues were being shouted and all he could see was moving lips. If he asked what they meant, no one would answer. He could only extrapolate what Boogie and Park were thinking. They were each of them alone. Isolated by being the only one of their kind in that room. God knew what Boogie was picking up on and why it had prompted the response of biting mania. And Park? He was obviously saying something, too. Communicating an emotion: anger, frustration, regret, sadness, something. Something that knocked his lips back to reveal vicious teeth. But Cooper could no more understand the nuances of that driving emotion than he could snarl articulately back.
Then Park looked up at him. Pain, that was what it was. Pain. The alone, separate feeling disappeared.
He walked right up to Park and knelt so they were just about eye-level. “Oliver,” he said, but Park brushed by him.
Come on, Cooper thought. He’s hurting. He needs you to be this...thing for him. So buck up and be it.
Cooper inhaled deeply and straightened his shoulders, trying to picture leader-types. “Oliver, stop,” he commanded in his most take-charge voice and reached out his hand. His fingers combed through the fur of Park’s neck. Cooper only managed to register the softness of it, the thickness of it before Park’s whole body flinched and he let out a high, terrified sound one might expect from a kicked dog.
Cooper whipped his hand back. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
But Park’s legs were already buckling and he rolled onto his side, exposing his belly.
Cooper leapt to his feet, hands held awkwardly up, not wanting to hurt him again. Not sure how he had hurt him to begin with, which made the possibility of doing it again all too likely. God, what was he thinking? That he could just fake his way through? He felt inadequate. As a partner, a lover, a friend, an alpha.
Park had come in here to be by himself. Not for Cooper to take a stab in the dark at being something he so clearly was not.
“I’m sorry,” Cooper whispered, again. “I’ll just—” He gestured awkwardly at the door. “I’ll leave you alone now.”
Park was still staring at him, but obviously wasn’t going to respond. Cooper’s arms physically ached with the desire to reach for him, touch him. But the risk of hurting him again, of doing something else that upset him when he could not say no, was far worse than the feeling of keeping his hands clenched and to himself.
Cooper opened his mouth to say sorry again, closed it, and scooped up a furious Boogie. “I’ll try to fix the AC.” He hurried to leave, feeling Park track his movement from his position on the floor, then stopped. “I’m going to ask Ava to take Boogie to her place tonight, so don’t worry about her, you know, bothering you anymore. If you wanted to take your time, I mean.”
He didn’t know what to do with his hands. Or body. Or mouth.
Get out. Keep walking. You’ve sufficiently shit all over this for one day. Retreat.
Cooper turned to go, but stopped one last time, just before leaving the room. “Sorry, last thing and then I promise to stop bothering you. I—I love you. And... Well, that’s it, I guess.” He winced at himself, cursing every song, poem and decorative pillow that had ever told him love was all you need, and quietly closed the door.
Clearly Park needed more, whether he realized it yet or not. Cooper just hoped he could figure out how to be that more while he still had the chance.
* * *
This was not something he could fix. Cooper put the bag of trash he was taking out on the ground and stared up at the ripped-up mess of his window AC from the alley below. The bottom of the unit was hanging down, as if it had caught on something and been yanked out of place, revealing the dark interior.
Cooper would put his money on raccoons, though he’d seen squirrels accomplish some wildly destructive feats in his life when they were determined enough. Why any creature, raccoon, squirrel or otherwise, would be determined to sabotage Cooper’s health and happiness with heat stroke was unclear. It was all secondary to the fact that repairing the damn thing was way out of his wheelhouse. Hell, what wasn’t? Cooper’s wheelhouse was feeling increasingly small and sparse today.
There was no way he was going to be able to get someone in to fix the AC tonight, or even before they left for North Carolina, at this rate. He was glad Ava had agreed to take Boogie over to her apartment for the week. She was dependable and nearly always up for quality time with Boogie. Who was going to cat sit for him if he was living across town?
Cooper frowned, shoving the thought away. If he said he didn’t want to move because he’d need a new cat sitter, Park really would believe he was just making up excuses in order to get out of living together. And that wasn’t true. It wasn’t.
He backed down the alley trying to get a better look at the damaged AC. There was a rustling from behind the dumpster. Cooper spun and his hand automatically went to his waist, finding nothing but the waistband of his gym shorts. Of course he wasn’t armed, standing outside his own window at nine o’clock at night. He didn’t even have reason to draw a weapon yet. Because a sound had spooked him?
The lights of the apartment windows created dramatically dark shadows where the dumpsters loomed, and Cooper had to squint to see. “Hello?”
There was no answer. But Cooper was sure there was someone there. He felt the familiar prickle tighten his skin as an awareness of being watched lit up his hindbrain. “I know you’re there.”
Nothing.
Cooper took a determined step forward and another panicked rustle preceded the appearance and prompt disappearance of a squirrel leaping out of the dumpster and down the alley, back into inky shadows. He exhaled a little shakily. Besides his thundering heartbeat, the alley was especially quiet.
He readjusted his grip on the trash bag and walked hesitantly up to the dumpster. The darkness seemed to hold its breath. Tensing, Cooper inched forward and peered inside.
Just trash. Cooper rolled his eyes at himself and tossed the bag in. Ridiculous.
On his way back through the lobby, he grabbed his mail and absently flicked through it, walking upstairs and into the apartment. How did the entire world suddenly know he was looking to move? Menus, real estate flyers, coupons, real estate flyers, some kind of campaign literature for a small local election, real esta—a neat little postcard nearly slipped out of his hand. Cooper flipped it over. Typed on the back in the center was a short missive: Can’t wait to see you!