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Part of the reason Harvey holds on so tightly is that he’s afraid Shane will let go. That one day Shane will lose the fight to soldier on, and he will leave Harvey to deal with the remnants. It’s a coward’s logic, but he’s never claimed to be brave.
It’s why he’s tucked into a corner of the saloon, wearing all black and a pair of sunglasses even though he’s indoors, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible. It’s not an easy feat, given how small the saloon is, but he’s managed to avoid the prying eyes of his neighbors.
Harvey feels a bit silly in his disguise. It reminds him of highschool theater, and that thought sends a new wave of shame through his body. He’s almost thirty-five, much too old to act like the besotted high school student he’s playing at. He knows that, but a part of him (the part that just wants Shane to be safe and sound and in his bed) still bristles at the thought of letting Shane fall back into his old habits.
It had been Marnie’s idea for them to spy on Shane. Marnie who had told him that Shane disappeared at odd hours once or twice a week. Marnie, who had dressed Harvey up like James Bond (or perhaps a male stripper, he can’t quite tell). Marnie, who insisted that it had to be him who did it, that he was the only one he would listen to. Her eyes had glittered at that, and Harvey had the distinct feeling she knew something he didn’t.
Still, he had agreed. The moment Shane’s name had come out of her mouth, Harvey knew there he wouldn’t need much convincing. Shane repeats in his head like a mantra, like a prayer, the god he reveres and the sin he can’t shake. He’s Harvey’s own version of tantalus, so close and yet so far from what he needs.
It’s then that Harvey’s own Hyacinth, his own Narcissus steps into the room. Shane’s visibly irritated, shaking slightly from what Harvey can only assume is from alcohol withdrawal. Harvey waits with bated breath to see if he approaches the bar, but instead he waves a brief hello to Gus before heading straight to the back of the bar, where the arcade machines are.
There’s something cylinder-like jangling in the left pocket of Shane’s work slacks. Harvey chides himself for roaming eyes before focusing on the lump. It’s a can, Harvey deduces, but a can of what? Surely Shane couldn’t have fallen on such hard times that he couldn’t even afford a beer from Gus.
Return of the Prairie King boots up, and for a moment, all Harvey can hear is his own heart pounding in his ear and the mechanical beeping of the arcade machine.
Shane’s focus on the video game is almost reverential, a shrine for him to confess his sins to. He takes his rage out on the console, until slowly, almost imperceptibly, the harsh day at work fades from his face. His eyes lose the harsh glare, soften until they’re rounder than a cow’s. It’s only then that Shane fishes out the can in his pockets, snapping if open before taking a much needed sip.
Harvey breathes a sigh of relief once he realizes those cans are just Joja Cola, though he does file a mental note to lecture Shane on ingesting less sugar. He takes his sunglasses off, finishes off his beer, and is almost to the door before he hears the shrill greeting that spells his demise.
“Harvey! Is that you? You’re never here on Wednesdays!” Emily says, too pleased with herself for someone who thwarted an otherwise perfect getaway.
At Harvey’s name, Shane turns his head towards the bar. There’s an alarm blaring in Harvey’s head that tells him he’s been caught red-handed. Harvey’s sure his cheeks have never been more flushed, and he quickly mumbles something or other about a long day at work. Emily doesn’t seem to buy it, but she doesn’t have to. Harvey is out the door before she can even think to respond.
His feet take him to the Cindersnap Forest. When he first moved here, all those years ago, it was the only place he could go to think. Now, staring at the grand expanse of the trees and the strange tower to the west, Harvey’s never felt smaller.
He isn’t surprised when he hears footsteps from the east. Shane had every right to be angry at him, to abhor him for betraying his trust by following him, stalking him. Harvey turns towards the sound, ready to sink down to his knees to repent at the sight of Shane, but is surprised to see that he isn’t angry, only curious.
It doesn’t stop the apology from flooding through his mouth. “Shane I’m really sorry—“
Shane cuts him off before he can say anything more.
“Marnie put you up to this, didn’t she?” Shane asks, and his voice has none of the venom Harvey’s used to. In fact, Shane almost sounds amused by the situation. Maybe the counselor he recommended really did help. Before Harvey can respond, Shane continues.
“I don’t blame you. Or Aunt Marnie for that matter. I was a mess.” Shane laughs, running a hand through his hair. Here, in the distant glow of the saloon, he looks younger, more carefree. His cheeks have lost some of their hollowness, his skin no longer gray from long nights of drinking.
“Thank you, Harvey. Really. You believed in me when I didn’t even believe in myself.” Shane smiles at him, knocking his knee against Harvey’s playfully. As if that simple motion didn’t make Harvey’s pulse quicken and his breath to hitch.
Harvey can’t help himself, not when they’re sitting this close, Shane’s knee pressed against his so casually, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to rely on him. He wants him to, wants him to take as much from him as humanly possible if it meant that Shane was happy. If it meant Shane was still with him, Harvey would cast the world asunder.
Shane tastes like cola and spearmint. Harvey swallows his soft ‘ oh’ of surprise and returns it with his own when Shane kisses him back.
“I just want you to be safe,” Harvey says against Shane’s lips. It’s quiet, soft enough to get lost in the space between their mouths.
He moves to say something more, but Shane’s mouth is back on his and Harvey forgets what it’s like to breathe. Softly, at first, a whisper against Harvey’s before they grow in confidence. Someone’s knee wedges between someone’s legs and Harvey can scarcely hold back the moan—
“Hey Haley, I found us a spot we can—woah.” Alex stares wide-eyed at the two of them. His eyes flit back and forth, from Harvey to Shane back to Harvey again. It’s like he’s processing the information in bursts, like a DVD that keeps skipping ahead ten seconds. “I’ll just…leave you two to it, then. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
Alex runs off, dragging a confused Haley behind him. Harvey would be mortified, if Shane weren’t by him, his knee still pressed against him.