Chapter Text
Once Alex leans into the kiss, the prince is royally screwed. An immense energy encompasses them, and he loses his breath along with all his remaining sensibilities. He pulls Alex’s hair, eliciting the sweetest, smallest sound. If he doesn’t stop right now, he won’t be able to stop at all.
“Fuck,” Henry swears, pulling back. Apparently, he still has an ounce of sense after all, or at least an ounce of self-preservation. “I’m just, shit. I’m sorry.”
Snow crunches beneath his stumbling feet as he practically runs away from the freshly snogged boy. The boy who must be having a total identity crisis. Even drunk, he could taste Alex’s confused wanting and a yearning that might even match his own. Impossible. The type of impossible that makes you question your interpretation of reality.
The humid heat and festive noises of the Gala overwhelm him as he re-enters the White House. He is sweating under his wool coat and his collar is too tight around his throat. The champagne in his system is tilting the floor, and it’s too much. Where the fuck is Pez?
Eventually, he finds his best friend between June and Nora, all dancing scandalously close to each other. It’s a testament to Pez’s loyalty that as soon as he looks at Henry, he exits the dancefloor, bowing to the ladies.
“What did you do?” Pez asks, leaning close to talk over the music.
“The most foolish thing possible.” He grabs Pez’s arm. “We have to go.”
After a beat, Pez nods. “Okay, let’s go.”
They walk through the party together, Pez’s presence keeping him from unravelling completely. It’s unlikely that Henry is effectively hiding his emotions, what with the drinking and kissing and panicking. Hopefully everyone around them is too intoxicated to notice.
“So, are we just getting some air or are we calling it a night?” Pez asks as they meet their PPOs at the front door. “Should I call a car to take us to the hotel?”
“No.” He imagines Alex showing up at their hotel the next morning, hungover and demanding answers. “No, we’re going home.”
“Right now?”
“Right now.” Henry’s throat is dry and his eyes are unforgivably wet. “Please.”
Pez stares at him, presumably assessing the severity of the situation, before nodding again.
“Okay, I’ll call a car to take us to the airport,” Pez says, pulling out his phone. “And as soon as we board the plane you are telling me everything.”
Within ten minutes, Shaun arrives with their luggage, a shiny black car, and three burly PPOs. Within two hours they are flying over the Atlantic Ocean, Henry pacing up and down the aisle of their private jet while Pez sips champagne.
"What the hell, Hen?" Pez says at last. Henry had been monologuing his panic spirals since they’d boarded the plane and is finally taking a breath.
"It just kind of happened?" Henry replies. He had fucked up, real bad this time.
"Well, to be completely honest with you, that was too fucking awesome!".
"You mean I did the right thing?" Henry asks, disbelief coloring his face. He isn’t sure if he’s asking approval of his choice to kiss Alex or his choice to run away afterwards.
"I don't know, Hen,” Pez says in an apologetic tone. “All I know about Alexander Claremont-Diaz is that you’re obsessed with him. This was bound to happen eventually, right?"
Henry has no clue how to answer, so he sighs and starts his pacing again. He knows he isn't going to sleep tonight, maybe not ever if he has a say in it. Alex might murder him in his sleep, even if he is protected by PPOs all the bloody time. He makes a mental note to ask Shaan to keep an eye out for Alex and his transatlantic flights.
…
"So yeah that happened." Henry finishes telling last night's events to his therapist who sports an impassive expression.
"Henry, why are you so afraid of Alex's reaction? For all you know he might feel the same way," Shannon says. The sincerity and calm in her voice almost soothes his racing heart.
"Because I do know he feels the same way, but he wasn't ready to know that. His obliviousness was the only thing saving us from falling together; the only thing stopping me from losing control. But then I lost control anyways because he’s just so bloody dense! It’s torture. Hell, both Nora and June have caught on. He’s going to be the last person to figure out he is queer! And I don’t, well, I shouldn’t have pushed it. Rash and careless.” Henry is rambling, but isn’t that the point of therapy? “Sometimes I think I reread Jane Austin too much, because I can’t help pining. Fantasizing. I thought, sure, he’ll see our mutual attraction eventually, and I can wait, and generally, or I can resist making idiotic choices I like to think I’m patient, but-"
He stops speaking abruptly and looks away from her sharp gaze. Even after so many years of therapy, it's still hard for him to talk about his feelings.
"But what Henry?" Shannon gently prods him.
"But I was...I got jealous when I saw them kissing and I just couldn't wait any longer for him to be ready. I know it was not fair, but I’ve known for years now.” He sighs. “I was actually just waiting for Pez to have his fun so we could leave. But...but Alex- he came outside looking for me and he was infuriating and couldn’t take a hint. I just couldn't stop myself. God, I'm such an idiot."
"Henry, we have talked about this before. Not everything is your fault. You need to understand that.” She pauses as if to give him an opportunity to agree with her. When he doesn’t, she continues, “And you told me Alex kissed you back so how can you be sure that he doesn't know that he’s queer?"
"Because I know Alex. I’m his best friend, we’ve talked for hours on end and he’s an obliviously stupid prat and I'm in love with him!" Henry snaps, but Shannon already has an answer ready for that.
"Yes Henry, but it doesn't mean that it was a mistake. You may be in love, but that doesn’t mean you know everything about him and his relationship with his sexuality. You aren’t a mind reader. Maybe he’s just playing dumb, and it’s a farce just like yours. The difference is you appear heterosexual while he appears to be oblivious. You can't know for sure."
That gives Henry something to think about, and he goes quiet for several moments.
Could it be that Alex acting so oblivious was just for the public? But that couldn't be. He knows Alex, knows him, knows him. Not only from the months of constant texting and late-night phone calls but also from countless tabloids and magazines. It didn’t feel like Alex was hiding anything from him. But who knows? Maybe he did it so that he could be himself but still not be himself. Maybe, he could enjoy the queerness but pretend not to know in order to save his political career?
No, that is not the Alexander Gabriel Claremont Diaz, he has come to know. He would be out and proud if he knew. Henry suddenly registers the fact that he is overthinking again when Shannon calls his name.
"Yes, Shannon?" Henry asks politely. Apparently she’d been speaking, but he has no idea what she was saying.
“You can tell me what you’re thinking, you know. That’s literally my job.” She smiles wryly and he grants her a weak laugh. “I was just saying that you can’t possibly try to know what he’s thinking about the kiss, or where he is with his sexuality.”
“Exactly! That’s the other thing.” Henry shakes his head. “Maybe I’ve been wrong this whole time. I thought I knew what he wanted, and that I knew what I wanted, but now I don’t know anything. Maybe Alex is just a very flirty guy. Maybe it’s just an American thing. I haven’t been friends with an American before-”
“Henry”
“- and he was drunk and I kissed him and he probably thinks I took advantage. At the very least, I ran away like a scared twelve-year-old.”
“Let’s try to take a non-judgemental stance here,” suggests Shannon gently. “And for now, let’s just imagine a hypothetical. What if you were right all along, and he really does like you? That’s very much possible, so let’s explore what that would mean, yeah?
Henry shrugs noncommittally.
“You mentioned a couple of weeks ago that you think that if you two get too close you’ll be doomed,” she continues. “Do you still think that?”
“Well, yeah,” replies Henry, looking at his hands. “If he likes me -which I’m not sure he does anymore- then inevitably he’ll get sick of me. I like him so, so much, you know? He might be attracted to me, but he can’t possibly like me the way I like him. And even if by some horrible miracle he does like me back, then what? I’m a bloody prince and he’s an aspiring politician, and there’s no way it wouldn’t end in disaster. The whole world would be looking at us. I’m just… I’m…”
“You’re afraid of getting hurt.”
“I… I guess. Yeah. I feel like I’m about to fall off a cliff, holding onto the unstable rocks, and I have no idea where I’ll land.” Henry chuckled a little at his cliche metaphor. “He must think I’m a complete tosser.”
“Henry,” she gives him that Therapist Look. “You can’t read minds. Journal on that topic this week?”
Henry sighs and nods, letting that sink in. She has said it before, numerous times, and Henry never quite believes her.
They sit in silence before Shannon redirects the conversation.
"When are you meeting Alex again?"
That's an easy question, Henry has known the answer ever since he left D.C. He answers immediately, "Oh never."
"Henry," Shannon reprimands.
"No, you don't get it. I'm going to be murdered if I so much as go within 10 feet near Alex."
"No.” She’s holding back a laugh as she tries to look stern. “The answer is that you're going to the state dinner and you're going to talk to Alex like a mature adult and listen to what he says instead of guessing what he’s thinking. Meanwhile, I want you to think about what we discussed today and tell me next week what you might want to say to him."
"Hour's up then?" Henry asks, because he suddenly can't wait to get out of Shannon’s office. He needs time to think about everything. Or maybe he needs time to avoid thinking about anything.
"We have five more minutes, but if you don't have anything to add today, we can end early." Shannon smiles warmly at him and he knows that if he wishes to continue she wouldn’t mind, but right now he can't. Enough talking of emotions for one eternity, thank you.
So he leaves and as he hurries to the car he texts Shaan: SOS I need about a million boxes of Jaffa Cakes from the nearest corner shop.
Then, sliding into the back seat: Please.
…
The weeks pass by quickly with Henry trying his best to ignore Alex's texts and trying to convince everyone that he oughtn’t to go to the state dinner in D.C. No one listens to him, not Shannon or even Pez. Not even his own sister, rather Bea tries to make him see reason as to why he should go.
It's all 'you never know,’ 'just trust me, Hen' and other bits of vague encouragement. Predictably, Bea decides to drop Henry off at the airport herself so he can't escape at the last minute. When he accuses her of this, however, she’s all 'Can’t a girl escort her dear younger brother to the airport, or what?’
As they leave Kensington palace she explicitly instructs his PPOs that Henry should at all costs stay in America for the allotted time and should not be allowed back even a minute too soon. Shaan, for some reason, seems extremely happy to hear those instructions and can't stop smiling. Henry scowls at him whenever he sees him, thinking that he is Henry's personal equerry. It’s a lot.
"Do I really have to, Bea?" he asks her as they near the airport.
"Henry, you know this is important and by that, I do not mean the state dinner. That can go fuck itself for all I care, but you need to talk to Alex. Hiding from him like this is doing no one any good. Talk to him, see what he says and do not overthink this, Hen please." Bea squeezes his hand lightly as the car stops.
They walk silently side by side to the plane where Bea hugs him and sees him off.
As the plane starts to take off, the panic that had been sedated by her hug starts to grow again, fiercer than ever. Henry keeps repeating the same phrase throughout the flight.
Don't overthink this. It's going to be okay.