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John knows something is wrong with Bear seconds before the disaster, but Bear’s too quick and determined to be stopped.
They’re finishing their morning routine in the park. Bear has played with his friends for a solid hour and is now panting heavily, enjoying being petted.
John reckons they both had a lovely time and are good to go home. But just after John hooks the leash back to the collar, Bear barks enthusiastically and dashes to the nearby bench, where the always well-dressed nerdy cute guy stands up and is about to leave. For three weeks he had been there reading with a paper cup in hand every morning with elegance and ease while now he is stunned and frozen on the spot seeing an almost 60 pounds Malinois rushing toward him.
“Hey!” John grabs the leash, trying to pull Bear back in horror. But Bear acted entirely out of the blue and hence put him at a disadvantage. John is dragged, and then he finds himself standing almost toes to toes with the poor guy Bear decided to ambush. His blue eyes widen behind the glasses, his two arms in front of his chest, palms toward John, and he still holds his book tightly.
John drops Bear’s leash. But Bear already starts to circle them around as if he’s racing on a track, his leash binding their lower legs together. Losing his balance, the guy falls forward. John wraps his arms around his back out of reflex, trying to prevent both of them from falling. His heart beats rapidly in his chest, where the guy’s one hand clings to seconds later. John breathes hard, forcing himself to focus. It’s just an instinct. Don’t be ridiculous.
They stay like that until both are waken by Bear’s cheerful bark. The guy steps back instantly, his face all flushed. John glares at Bear, who seems finally satisfies and is now wagging his tail.
“I’m sorry, Mr.? Are you alright?” John says. He approaches while keeping a respectful distance, doesn’t want to make the situation worse. “I just want to make sure you didn’t get hurt.”
The guy blinks for a few times, still pretty undone and embarrassed. “Thank god I’ve finished the tea. I’m...” He swallows, eyes wandering away and then nailed on the ground. He places the book under his arm and then starts to flatten his suit. Slowly, one place after another as if it can help him in the process of finding the words he lost.
John looks around and finds the empty paper cup on the ground, squeezed miserably in the earlier chaos. John feels an urge of running out of this park and never coming back. But he tries again instead.
“I’m really sorry. He doesn’t usually act like that. I hope... I hope we didn’t ruin anything for you. If there’s-”
“Oh, no.” The guy lifts his head again and smiles, back to his elegant self John has been secretly admiring for some days. “I was worried about the book. It’s a bad habit of mine. I shouldn’t indulge myself by reading it while having tea, especially when it’s the first edition. I should be more careful.”
Bear comes near and sniffs the book with delight. John almost has a heart attack, but the guy only chuckles. “Your dog certainly has an excellent taste, Mr.? I’m Harold. Please don’t scold him because of this pure accident.”
“It’s Bear,” John blurts out.
“Beg pardon?”
“Ugh, I meant-” John wants to bite his tongue off for his stupidity. He can almost picture Shaw’s laughing face waving in front of him. “-His name is Bear. I’m John.”
“John,” Harold says and nods politely, “Well, have a good day.”
While John is still lost at how Harold said his name, Harold turns and starts to limp away.
“Wait, Harold,” John calls, “Can I walk you a little?”
“Ah.” Harold stops and turns back. After noticing John’s worried look, he says, “This is old. No need to worry. Thank you. I’m perfectly fine.”
John keeps standing there watching Harold leave until Bear nudges him.
“Do you think we’re going to see him again?”
Bear tilts his head, giving no evidence that he understands what John’s talking about.
“Don’t look at me like that,” John complains while they leave. “You’re just like her. Why are you like her? She must feed you way too often.”
—
Harold knows he definitely lost all of his dignity when he ruined everything by putting his hand on that guy’s chest.
In his defense, Harold struggles, he was about to fall, and it was nothing wrong to grab something nearby to prevent it. But he kept like that for how long? The truth-seeking part of Harold decides not to let himself out of the hook. He can’t recall. All he knows is that is was long enough for him to lose count. It was bad.
And it doesn’t help that that guy, John, is someone Harold has been secretly paying attention to for three weeks.
It started as an accident at first. Harold was on the way back from collecting some rare books that day, and while passing through the park, he thought of buying his favorite beverage. Then, because the weather was beautiful, Harold decided to find somewhere to sit down and enjoy his tea. Then, because those books were so near it’d be a shame not to flip through the pages. Soon afterward he was immersed in one of them and forgot there was another world around him.
Then, he was drawn by sounds and lifted his head. A man was playing with his dog, entirely relaxed and carefree. Harold tried to go back to where he put his index finger in between the pages several times. He didn’t finish the book in the end. He found himself back on the same bench the other morning.
He kept doing it every day until this morning’s disaster.
Root sighs dramatically behind him. Harold jumps and almost drops the books he’s shelving.
“Must you do that?”
“You don’t look as cheerful as usual today, Harold. Why? Something happened during your favorite trip to the park?”
Harold decides not to ask how she guessed that. “Have you seen her today? She’s nowhere to be found.”
Root wags her head to a tune possibly only she can hear, visually not impressed by Harold’s skill of changing topics. But she smiles the I’ll-let-you-have-this-one smile and answers, “No, I haven’t. Maybe she’s out on a mission!”
“Even if I want to appreciate your optimism, Root, you and I both know her breakfast remains untouched. I only hope she doesn’t get lost or eat something unclean on the street.”
“Aw, she’s a big girl.”
Frankly? Harold regrets three times a day about his decision of letting Root work here. He doesn’t even hire her. She just came along one day and announced to stay. Kind of like Machine, he must say. Anyways, the life of this tiny bookstore is still going.
Machine comes back earlier than expected today, so for one time, Harold can close the store before midnight. Root has been joking about changing the opening hours. “We’ll have to wait for her anyway. What do you think about a midnight-opened only bookstore?”
Harold pretends not to hear it and suspects the only reason Root suggests is because she dislikes most of the customers.
“Should I go back tomorrow?” Harold mutters to himself while watching Machine eat her late meal. “Won’t it be a waste to give up a perfect bench only because of some unfortunate and embarrassing accident?”
Like always, she listens attentively but never speaks. She rubs her moist nose into Harold’s palm while Harold continues. “I mean, it’s a park. Anyone is allowed to come and go in a park.”
Seemingly, the bench isn’t perfect anymore without his tea - he hesitated too long and left the house in a hurry and hence forgot his tea. Also, what in front of him is just an empty field.
Harold sighs. What was he thinking? After such an embarrassment who’d want to go back to this specific place ever again?
He opens his book, but those words stop making sense, and there’s something else climbing up from the bottom of his stomach.
A crush was harmless actually since he didn’t know the man. But nothing remained the same after their short exchange of conversation, during which he must have acted poorly. Anyway, Harold could tell that John was a good guy. He should’ve found a proper way to talk to him before he ruined everything.
“What’s the point to cry over spilled milk?” Harold reasons with himself in a low voice.
“What milk?” John’s voice gently rises beside him.
Harold lifts his head in surprise. He suspects his face probably looks a bit silly, but he can’t care less, and John’s handing him a cup from his favorite vendor.
“Bear’s peace offering,” John says with a smile. “May I?”
“Sure.” Harold moves a little for him to sit on the bench. He accepts the tea. It’s still warm. “How did you know... Ah, the cup.”
“I hope you don’t mind.” There’s a hint of hesitation in John’s voice.
Harold raises his smile from the steam of the tea. “No. Why would I? Thank you for the tea, John.”
John stares back at him.
Harold fails to move his eyes away.
But something with hot breathing sneaks closer. Harold looks down and finds Bear pressing his head on Harold’s leg. So Bear must decide it’s rude for humans to start any interaction without him. The corners of his mouth turn up at the thought.
“I think Bear likes you,” John says, “I’m glad he figured out a better way to show it.”
“Me, too,” Harold answers with a relaxed tone he thought he’d lost for a long time. He pets Bear thoroughly.
“Do you have pets of your own?” John carries on the conversation. “You seem good with them.”
“I have a cat,” Harold says, “Her name is Machine, and she just does whatever and whenever she wants. I don’t even know what she’s doing these days. I only pray that she stays safe and still remembers to come back to the store.”
“Machine. An unusual name for a cat,” John teases.
“Yeah,” Harold says while eyeing him, “says the man who named his dog Bear.”
They both laugh at their silliness for a while.
More people come to the park for exercise, chess, or some other activities. A leisurely snippet of this always roaring massive city. Trees above where they sit provide enough shade to shelter them from the blazing sun. Here is a perfect little corner in his daily life, and Harold’s glad he chose to come back today.
“I hope she comes back to you safe, too,” John says.
“Um?”
“Machine, I think she knows-” John explains softly, “-that you always worry but instead of keeping her in the house, you leave a door for her. It provides a sense of security, so she knows no matter what, you’ll wait for her. She’ll want to come home safe for that.”
Harold stares at John’s profile, astonished because of how genuine John is when saying it. It isn’t some small talks in a social situation. It is John sharing something - that he believes or even about himself - with Harold freely.
Pity that he isn’t always good at dealing with these.
“I... Thank you” is all Harold manages to say.
“You said a store?” John gives him a soft smile and then changes the topics casually.
“Well, yes. I have a bookstore in the neighborhood.”
“You must have lots of first editions then.”
“That’d be my ultimate goal, yes. You? What do you do?” Harold asks while hoping he can do this as easily as John does.
“I own a bakery with a friend nearby,” John says, “And unlike books, people like their pastries the most final the best. All the first editions were in my friend’s belly, I’m afraid.”
They keep talking for a little while until both of them must leave or else no matter which edition their customers prefer, none of them is able to purchase any goods.
John offers to walk him to the store again before they part ways.
Harold really wants to say yes. But if he misreads the situation, and this is just... They have such a good time. And for once, Harold isn’t eager to turn the pages to know what happens in a book.
“No. Thanks for the offer though.” Harold shakes his head slightly. Seconds later he adds quickly, “Maybe next time.”
John smiles back. “Frankly, I thought I wouldn’t see you today. I’m glad I was wrong.”
Harold’s heart trips a step, but he manages to say calmly, “See you tomorrow then.”
“See you tomorrow, Harold.”
—
John knows he’s in too deep when his heart sinks seeing Harold’s bench empty the other morning after the accident. He did consider the possibility before coming, but seeing the answer still stings. He sighs and unhooks Bear’s leash.
Bear runs away in excitement, leaving him behind.
John keeps strolling some distance and watches Bear play. Well, at least one of them is happy.
Now alone, John can’t help replaying his conversation with Harold. Sadly it was too short, and before long all he thinks of is the conversation he had with Shaw, or rather, the duration they spent together where she tried every way to tease him.
It started as “What happened to your face?”
“What happened to my face?”
“You realize the ingredients you’re supposed to mix up are flour, sugar, butter, and eggs. Not bitterness and regret, right?”
John glanced at her. She always chose an annoying way to show it, but he knew that was her way to care about him, so John told her what had happened.
It ended up with her making fun of him the whole afternoon, including off and on meaningful staring and intentionally miscalling his name.
“Fine! Forget it, Shaw. I should never tell you,” John protested.
But indeed, it made him feel better. Now the accident felt more like some funny thing people shared and laughed at with friends, not some tragic, irreparable mistakes.
“Reese, relax!” she said, “Go back tomorrow and talk to him. Bring something nice. Everyone likes food. And Bear. Everybody likes Bear. God, can’t believe you’re so bad at this.”
Wandering in the park, John asks himself does it even matter now that Harold might never come to this spot again.
He turns his head toward the bench in sadness, and then he blinks several times to be sure.
Harold sits on the bench. John’s heart beats fast.
The first thought is to hide away from being seen, actually. Now John knows he and Bear didn’t scare Harold away. Maybe given time, after the embarrassment is watered down through time, there’ll be another better chance for them to start a proper interaction again.
But when? He’d waited for a better chance for weeks before Bear stepped in. Maybe it was the truth. He must have stared too often and for too long, and Bear noticed and probably misjudged the situation. Also, who knows what happens next? It might be now or never.
Harold seems a bit restless. John looks closely and concludes it’s because for some reason Harold forgot his tea.
Just when John stands there for a short while preparing himself, with a paper cup in hand, Bear shows up and sits beside him.
John looks at him. Bear looks back as if asking “What?”
“What? I'm planning to make up the damage you caused,” he tells Bear.
Bear gives him an expression that can only be interpreted as disagreement.
All in all, it goes better than John expected. He and Harold share such a good time. Harold declines politely to John’s offer, but it’s okay. John just wants to offer it. He doesn’t expect any particular reply.
The only problem is John himself; he immediately wishes to have more the moment he has it. He wishes to spend more time with Harold, to sit slightly closer next to him, to know a bit more about him, and to make him smile the smile when he talks about books and Machine some more.
At least they’ll see each other again tomorrow, which’s already more than John thought he’d have.
John brings croissants and Harold’s tea on the second day. They sit on the bench and chat and watch Bear play. John wonders what the book Harold brings with him is about, and Harold tells him in a way John wants to listen to forever.
John makes danishes on the third day, and Harold carries a little bag of books that he thinks John might also enjoy.
“Sorry, I seem to get carried away. It’s exciting to find someone also appreciates things I’ve enjoyed all my life,” Harold mutters shyly, and John gives him a big grin.
They talk a bit more and laugh when Bear squeezes in between them wanting to have some treats.
They walk Bear together in the park on the fourth day. The sun shines through leaves and casts green-edged glitters among olive shadows on the ground.
John tells Harold that he and Shaw are developing new recipes. He thinks about maybe using some classic’s themes for inspiration and making a series of pastries around a specific concept. Harold’s surprise and approval are written all over his face.
“You have a lot of passion in what you do, John. It’s such an admirable quality of people.”
“And you, too,” John says, “If the idea sails, I’ll certainly need your help, Harold. Can’t do this alone.”
Harold blinks slowly at him, and John holds his breath waiting for the reply.
But shortly after saying “Of course. I’m more than happy to help” Harold moves his eyes away.
And then, Harold remains concentrated on playing with Bear until they bid goodbye.
As days go by their friendship deepens, and everything seems to go well. John now knows that Harold isn’t just a well-dressed cute guy, he’s also smart and kind and humorous. Harold is perfect, and sometimes it is intimidating.
John knows he’s probably childish, but what if, what if Harold being kind and generous with him is because Harold is kind and generous, full-stop? John knows that Harold enjoys walking Bear with him. But everyone loves Bear. John knows that Harold enjoys sharing his favorite books with John, but Harold loves books so of course, he’s always happy to talk about them.
John keeps paying close attention, trying to find some clues, any hint, indicating that maybe Harold likes John the same way John does. It gets worst because sometimes he does find some. Stares he almost catches. The way Harold’s body relaxes near his when Bear demands them to pet him at the same time. Blurred layers behind Harold’s words every time John suggests doing something more than their regular walk.
Just like what Harold said that day. His compliment made John’s heart soar, while how he said it still made John unsure. It wasn’t because Harold wasn’t genuine, of course not, but Harold said it in a the-Earth-orbits-around-the-Sun or Dickens-told-such-wonderful-stories style, while John was a helpless, greedy, and pathetic man who craved something more than his maybe imagined hope.
Every time John thinks he finally catches something, and they can go further from there, every time John tries to move a step forward thinking Harold might do the same, Harold remains still just slightly long enough for the chance to slip away.
John feels he has been wandering around trying to find a way in but keeps walking into a glass wall, where he and Harold stay on both sides staring at the other equally confused.
Today John wakes up surrounded by a roaring sound. It rains so heavily that Bear whines with his ears flat on his head.
John realizes they never exchanged any way to communicate so there’s no way they can contact the other to confirm their meeting.
John brews his coffee. He feeds Bear and fills fresh water into his bowl. John has his coffee and then tries to sit still.
It’s disappointing that he can’t see Harold today. But there’s no way Harold will come to the park in such weather.
They did say “See you tomorrow” yesterday, but they’re both adults able to make rational reasoning to know the meeting is canceled. The park must be empty.
But his ridiculous heart refuses to shut up and is messing with him with all the what-ifs. What if Harold goes to the park because he views his own words seriously? What if Harold doesn’t break an agreement with a friend? What if, what if Harold goes only to find an empty bench and gets upset because, magically and unexplainably, Harold also hopes to see him and hopes that John cares about him the same way he cares-
Oh crap. Once the thought brushes over John’s mind, it keeps scratching and scratching.
It’ll only prove how stupid John is when he arrives and sees the bench empty. But above it all, no matter how tiny the possibility is, John will never want Harold to be upset. Not if he can help it.
John checks the time and finds he’s terribly late for their usual meeting hour. He grabs an umbrella and tells Bear “Sorry, no walks today. I’ll be right back” before rushing out of the door.
Well, the bench is empty. John laughs at himself for even imagining otherwise.
It isn’t about whether Harold shares the same feeling with him or not. It’s about John being an idiot who can’t think straight in a normal situation like this. John ignores the damp discomfort around his legs and decides to go home and maybe cook some soup for both himself and Bear for lunch.
“Oh dear, I’m glad that I come.”
John turns and sees Harold standing in the rain with an almost blown umbrella, out of breath. The heavy rain blurs his figure, but somehow John can tell every detail going on behind his fogged glasses and his dressed-in-a-hurry suit.
“I mean who in the right mind will go out of their door in this kind of weather. We do have an agreement, but it’ll be understandable, it’s reasonable to assume today’s meeting is canceled due to this unfortunate circumstance,” Harold mutters in a low, fuzzy voice, but John can hear him clearly, every single word.
John walks toward Harold while Harold carries on, suddenly unable to stop. The rain still pours between them, around them. “But I found it utterly upsetting. It feels terrible. I know it’s ridiculous but what if... It’ll be a shame if I disappoint you, and I just. But you’re here. I don’t even know which one of us is stupider frankly and, John?”
John covers them with his umbrella, bringing one hand on Harold’s arm and then stroking gently, warming him up. Standing this close, he can see Harold’s eyes are even bluer when he looks up at him, and the vulnerability in them. Time revises at once, all those moments they spent together replaying in his mind, and he can see now because all those clues he has been looking for were always there and now he also knows how they look like.
Again John finds himself standing in front of the invisible wall. Their usual confusion cracks and underneath it is something else. Fear, a feeling always visits with its twins - longing.
“Maybe we’re just equally stupid. How do you think?” John says and takes a step closer.
The wall vanishes.
—
Harold knows that John’s being the braver one by asking and John’s always this gentle to wait for his answer. So, he accepts John’s silent invitation and walks into the embrace. He sinks into the warmth radiated from John’s chest, and it feels even better than the first time.
Moments later, John leans backward slightly. Far enough for them to stare into each other’s eyes. Close enough for Harold to recognize his own eyes smiling reflected in John’s. John moves his hand to Harold’s shoulder and then touches his cheek, caressing.
“I can live with that,” Harold says his verbal answer, belated but always nice to add, he thinks, while wondering if his words can be received clearly under the rain noise.
When John tenderly catches his lips with his, Harold knows John receives it perfectly.
Harold knows people might not consider this to be the best time and place to have the first kiss. Their lips are cool because of the rain, and they’re shaking a little. But it’s okay because the person he’s sharing all these with is So. Right. And this bench remains his favorite place in life, on both sunny and rainy days.
—
John knows he’ll have to buy a bigger pot on the way back to his place. The one he uses is too small to cook for all three of them. Or, he can get one from the bakery. There’s a high possibility that Shaw finds out in a minute, but John is too busy enjoying the best time of his life to care.
—
Bear knows all the time because he’s such a genius dog. The only one thing he can’t figure out is why humans can be so dumb.
He waited. He really did. But eventually, he understood that he had to intervene.
It proves he’s right. Humans can’t achieve anything without dogs. Now his human is happy, his newly-acquired human is also happy, and he gets two shares of pampering. A smart dog Bear is. A smart dog.