Blank Verse (a Twin Peaks story)
Tuesday, 12 April 2016 10:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
carose59"Harry, I'm afraid we have a problem."
Harry finished swallowing his beer and put his glass down. He had hoped the time of problems had passed—big problems, anyway, the kind that required official pronouncements. Bob was gone. Cooper was safe. The town was safe.
Weren't they?
Maybe they weren't.
He took another drink from his glass, and again set it carefully down. "What kind of problem?"
"I've fallen in love with you."
Harry was very glad he'd put down his beer. "Really?" he said, for some reason trying to sound only mildly interested in this, rather than—than—whatever he was. He wasn't sure what he was. Surprised. Shocked? Maybe not, but surprised. Cooper's tone had misled him.
"Yes, Harry," Cooper said. "I was up late last night, going over everything— I made some notes—" He sounded so businesslike, it made this whole conversation seem surreal
"Notes?" Harry asked, puzzled. "What kind of notes?"
"About my feelings for you. They were supposed to—" Cooper interrupted himself to search his pockets, probably for the notes, though at that moment Harry wouldn't have been surprised to find out he was looking for something else altogether. He didn't seem to be able to find them. "They were supposed to help me clarify things, but I seem to have, um, I seem to have written a poem instead." Cooper was blushing. "Entirely by accident," he assured Harry, as though writing a poem was a transgression Harry—or anyone—would be unlikely to forgive.
"I see," Harry said, though he didn't. "You wrote a poem."
"Yes. It— I've lost my notebook."
"That's all right. It's probably in your room."
"I was trying to— It was about you. Would you prefer it if I went back to the hotel?"
Harry had a little trouble following this reasoning. "Why? Was it a bad poem?"
"I'm not a poet," Cooper told him, the way he might swear he wasn't a thief.
"I never thought you were," Harry said. "But even if you were, I still don't know why I'd want you to go back to the hotel. I invited you to stay here in spite of your literary leanings. Or lack of them. What I meant was, were you writing bad things about me in your poem or—"
"No! No, of course not."
"Then I don't see a problem. Feel free to write all the poetry you want to." Harry took his own notebook from his pocket and handed it to Cooper. "You can even use my notebook."
"Harry, you don't seem to be taking this very seriously," Cooper said.
Harry drank some more beer. "Would you like me to sock you in the mouth?"
"Do you want to?"
Harry shook his head. "No."
"I wasn't sure how you'd feel about this—me—this—"
Harry had never seen Cooper so flustered. It was very appealing. "Did you want to tell me a joke?" Harry asked.
Cooper blushed harder. "I only know one joke," he said seriously, "and you've already heard it."
Harry nodded. He'd heard Cooper tell it to Annie.
"Does this sound ridiculous to you?"
"You mean someone falling in love with me?" Harry asked. "No, I wouldn't say ridiculous. Unlikely, maybe—"
"Me," Cooper clarified. "All of a sudden."
"I thought that's how it happened," Harry said. "All of a sudden."
"Of course, love can happen like that, but—"
Not that it wasn't fun, teasing Cooper, but Harry was starting to feel sorry for him. "It's how it happened to me," he said gently, and for the first time, waited for Cooper to catch up.
Harry finished swallowing his beer and put his glass down. He had hoped the time of problems had passed—big problems, anyway, the kind that required official pronouncements. Bob was gone. Cooper was safe. The town was safe.
Weren't they?
Maybe they weren't.
He took another drink from his glass, and again set it carefully down. "What kind of problem?"
"I've fallen in love with you."
Harry was very glad he'd put down his beer. "Really?" he said, for some reason trying to sound only mildly interested in this, rather than—than—whatever he was. He wasn't sure what he was. Surprised. Shocked? Maybe not, but surprised. Cooper's tone had misled him.
"Yes, Harry," Cooper said. "I was up late last night, going over everything— I made some notes—" He sounded so businesslike, it made this whole conversation seem surreal
"Notes?" Harry asked, puzzled. "What kind of notes?"
"About my feelings for you. They were supposed to—" Cooper interrupted himself to search his pockets, probably for the notes, though at that moment Harry wouldn't have been surprised to find out he was looking for something else altogether. He didn't seem to be able to find them. "They were supposed to help me clarify things, but I seem to have, um, I seem to have written a poem instead." Cooper was blushing. "Entirely by accident," he assured Harry, as though writing a poem was a transgression Harry—or anyone—would be unlikely to forgive.
"I see," Harry said, though he didn't. "You wrote a poem."
"Yes. It— I've lost my notebook."
"That's all right. It's probably in your room."
"I was trying to— It was about you. Would you prefer it if I went back to the hotel?"
Harry had a little trouble following this reasoning. "Why? Was it a bad poem?"
"I'm not a poet," Cooper told him, the way he might swear he wasn't a thief.
"I never thought you were," Harry said. "But even if you were, I still don't know why I'd want you to go back to the hotel. I invited you to stay here in spite of your literary leanings. Or lack of them. What I meant was, were you writing bad things about me in your poem or—"
"No! No, of course not."
"Then I don't see a problem. Feel free to write all the poetry you want to." Harry took his own notebook from his pocket and handed it to Cooper. "You can even use my notebook."
"Harry, you don't seem to be taking this very seriously," Cooper said.
Harry drank some more beer. "Would you like me to sock you in the mouth?"
"Do you want to?"
Harry shook his head. "No."
"I wasn't sure how you'd feel about this—me—this—"
Harry had never seen Cooper so flustered. It was very appealing. "Did you want to tell me a joke?" Harry asked.
Cooper blushed harder. "I only know one joke," he said seriously, "and you've already heard it."
Harry nodded. He'd heard Cooper tell it to Annie.
"Does this sound ridiculous to you?"
"You mean someone falling in love with me?" Harry asked. "No, I wouldn't say ridiculous. Unlikely, maybe—"
"Me," Cooper clarified. "All of a sudden."
"I thought that's how it happened," Harry said. "All of a sudden."
"Of course, love can happen like that, but—"
Not that it wasn't fun, teasing Cooper, but Harry was starting to feel sorry for him. "It's how it happened to me," he said gently, and for the first time, waited for Cooper to catch up.