Chapter Text
Charles was entranced by the shadows dancing across his dear friend’s face as the fire flickered in the grate. He felt he could watch them forever without getting bored. But when Henry set his book down, Charles pretended to be absorbed in his wine.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that, Charley.”
“Do what?”
“Look away every time I turn to you.”
Charles blanched. Henry eyed him for a moment before adding softly, “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”
“I—I don’t know that you mean.”
“There you go again, turning away from me. Why do you do it? Why not just speak to me?”
“We are speaking.”
“I mean plainly, openly.”
Instead of answering, Charles stood and walked over to the window. He could barely admit to himself that Henry was right, that he had been watching him lovingly, longingly when he thought himself unobserved. With his back to Henry, he tried to compose his features, struggled to find a response that would get him out of this conversation. But then Henry was standing beside him, resting one hand on Charles’ lower back; his sudden nearness was disorienting and that casual touch took his breath away.
“Tell me, Charles,” Henry said gently, “have you really never noticed that I look at you the same way?”
He could not have been more shocked if Henry had slapped him. What could he mean by that? Surely he could not be serious? Charles looked down into his face, searching for any hint of mockery or sarcasm—but that smile, the light in those brilliant eyes, was all sweet earnestness. Still, he could not quite believe. He continued searching Henry’s face until at length Henry asked him to say something.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what to say.”
“Well, I suppose there is a first time for everything.” They both laughed, glad to have the tension eased. Then Henry asked him to come away from the window, to come sit down again, and Charles readily acquiesced. As he sat, Charles mused aloud,
“I do not think I can believe you; it would make me far too happy.” Henry had not yet returned to his seat, and when he heard this, he turned again to Charles. He looked at him, seeming to consider what to say, before stepping nearer and stooping slightly to kiss him. Charles suddenly felt as if he had had an entire bottle or two of wine—his heart soared, his head was spinning, and there was a peculiar feeling in his stomach he could not describe. When Henry drew away from him, Charles leaned forward, unwilling to stop so soon. But Henry pulled back a little further, just out of reach, and asked,
“Do you believe me now?”
“I think I may need a little more convincing.” Henry grinned, happy to oblige.