Hurtling Towards Dawn

[haroldlee]

As pretty as the view was, there was little to be done for the fact that New Jersey in late October was less than clement. And no amount of kind of half-huddling together on the blanket they'd brought with them to Sinatra Park was going to make it any warmer. At least, without the date becoming a first time for more than just dating, anyway

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[haroldlee]

"No," still with the manic tone, some. He dragged the hand from his hair, holding it out in front of him, palm up, fingers splayed. Where? They could find a hotel, but they'd need to ditch the car and he'd probably have to show ID or some shit to get the room and it'd be a giant mess and even if it was all a mistake Scotty had no ID no nothing he didn't even exist and they'd fucking take him and-- fuck. Just, fuck.

"Fuck."

Hide. Okay. Might be able to get hold of Kumar again, no idea what he could even do about it and fuck if Harold dreaded asking for yet another favor after all this, but it's not like he could ask his parents for a hiding place or some shit--

"Ah, fuck," Harold repeated, frozen, looking up at Scotty. "...remember how I said I'd never brought a dude home to meet my parents before?"

"Aye..." Scotty watched as they got to the ground floor, then briefly stole another kiss -- a fast little tease with his tongue, but hopefully enough to bolster Harold's nerves some here -- before taking Harold's hand and squeezing it, heading for the door at something less than a run. "Could they help?"

Blinking, Harold didn't exactly unfreeze. The kiss rather perpetuated his brief lockup, though skewed decidedly fucking nicer, and he blinked for a moment before allowing something of a whimper to escape. Yeah. With the-- casual kissing. Okay. He sniffed in a breath, squeezing that hand as they moved toward the door, and he finally remembered that he kinda had to answer. "No. No. Yes. Fuck, I don't fucking know. It's all I've got," the last sentence thrown out to the universe, more than Scotty. Fuck it. They could hide under his old rocketship comforter and hope the world outside fell the fuck down.

"We canna very well stay here, any which way." Scotty had been in some kind of strange headspace since landing in this place, and he knew it. Not a bad headspace, just one that was tuned to crisis and the need to resolve it. He was waiting for that time to come to an end, and had to admit that there was some kind of concern starting to edge into his mind that he couldn't see one. "Ye'll have t' drive, I dinna ken th' way, really, anywhere."

Truth be told, Harold could probably get lost trying to find a fucking burger joint. ...one day he might even tell Scotty that story. Still, the way to his parents' was reasonably memorized even in a goddamn panic mode. He nodded, making some kind of affirmative noise, and... hello, fucking anxiety. Again. Harold was getting a little sick of his gut twisting.

Parents. Missing. 3 months. Cops at his house, though he couldn't know they weren't at all meant for him. Scotty.

Yep. Harold Lee was royally fucked.

That said... royally fucked was usually about the time he pulled an epiphany out of his ass.