Chapter Text
Henry had no energy. None. And yet, appearances must be upheld and somebody had to represent the crown for these international events. Besides, Bea had insisted that the sunshine in Rio would pull him out of the funk he was in. Loss is a funny thing. Like, that moment when you misplace the novel you were about to finish and it reminds you of your chronic existential crisis and misplaced sense of purpose. Similarly, a handsome boy from Oxford had just decided that secretly fucking His Royal Highness was ‘just too much,’ and that relatively insignificant loss reminded Henry of his father’s death just 14 months previous.
So, with a heart heavy with grief and the bitter aftertaste of another failed, secret gay affair, Henry found himself surrounded by thousands of people next to an Olympic swimming pool. The cacophony of voices bouncing off the tall domed ceiling was over stimulating enough before Henry spotted the first son of the US. His smile was brighter than the Rio sun and his black curls flopped over sparkling brown eyes. It overwhelmed Henry. He was so alive, and even from far away that amount of life force was contagious, lighting a small spark in Henry’s dark heart. He knew, even from a distance, that love from a boy like that would set him on fire, and that after such a fire, losing him would leave Henry a pile of ashes. He resolved to keep his distance.
But, of course, the First Son of the US approached him.
“Hey, I’m Alex,” said the beautiful boy. Alex’s brown eyes raked him up and down, making him feel as scantily clad as the Olympic divers. This boy was anything but subtle. Henry couldn’t find words and Alex’s confident smile almost faltered. “My mom’s running for US President?”
His brown hand was outstretched and, remembering his manners, Henry shook it. Alex’s hand was dry and warm and just this small touch sent a hurricane of butterflies through Henry’s stomach. He quickly let go and wiped his hand on his pants to help shake off this absurdly instant attraction.
“Right. Henry.” He fixed his gaze on the yellow flower in Alex’s pocket. “Me, I mean. I’m Prince Henry. Of Wales.”
“I know.” Alex stepped closer and Henry spared a glance up to his face. Those eyelashes had to be illegal. “You’re taller than I would have guessed from your pictures. Broader shoulders too.” Again Henry couldn’t find words and Alex continued. “Pleasure to make your royal acquaintance.”
“Pleasure,” Henry replied. God, the way Alex was looking at him was practically indecent. Surely, everyone in the stadium could tell that he was checking Henry out. Surely, if he stayed to hit on Henry some more the poor prince would cave in and be destroyed.
So Henry turned away and quietly pleaded with Shaan to get rid of him. Shaan led Alex away and as they left, Henry spared him one last glance. The first son looked rather put out and Henry could understand why. A guy like that certainly wasn’t used to rejection.
When Henry got back to his hotel that night he spent more time than he would ever willingly admit combing through social media to find out everything he possibly could about Alex Claremont-Diaz. He was surprised to find that nowhere online did it reference Alex being attracted to men, which was strange considering he was a liberal Democrat and so obviously queer.