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“So,” the host of the talk show starts, eyes glimmering with excitement as he gazes at Alex over the desk, “your new single. I think anyone here would agree that it felt like a death by a thousand cuts, listening to those lyrics.”
There’s an applause from the audience and Alex lets a smile spread on his face. “Well, Oliver, I may have watched a few people react to it,” he admits—truthfully, he spent the previous night on Twitter, giddy with his song on the trending page, reading through the cries and tears and angry keyboard smashes promising to cancel whoever the song’s about. I’m gonna call him Bob, he remembers telling Henry when they started writing it together, Henry’s fingers slipping off the piano keys as he tried to keep his composure. Just Bob. Not even short for Robert. He doesn’t deserve that.
“If you don’t mind me asking… There’s been a lot of speculation online about who the song is about.”
Alex flips his curls to the other side, trying not to smile. “Uh huh.”
“Can you give us an idea? Because let me tell you, I have my torch prepared. We’re ready to go to war on anyone who could break such a perfectly good heart as yours.”
Alex’s eyes flicker to the audience. The lights are blinding, making it impossible to see the people clearly, but Alex’s heart would be able to find Henry even in wonderland. He smiles and shrugs. “You know, I like to think the name doesn’t matter much. Call it what you want, Bob or Ashley or Harry, but I think what’s beautiful about this song is that the feelings are universal. Anyone can listen to them and empathize with the pain, whether they’ve been through something similar or not. And I hope it also helps those who have been through it.”
Not the answer Oliver wanted, clearly, but when the audience applauds, Alex lets his grin widen. He meets Henry’s figure and gives him a secret wink.
i. Alex Claremont-Diaz’s New Song Shattered Our Hearts, but Who Shattered His? 5 People We Think “Exile” Could Be About!
The notification pops up on his phone as Alex is scribbling mindless lyrics onto the blank spaces in his notebook.
In a second, his pen drops to the floor as his brows shoot up; he clicks on the link before he can stop himself, lips pressed together in an attempt to hold back his laughter.
“Baby! You have to see this.” Alex yells inside the apartment and stands up to hunt for his boyfriend. He backtracks into the kitchen when he hears the clutter of pans and finds Henry leaning over a pan, staring at what looks like a very sad and soggy-looking grilled cheese, an apron around his waist and flour dusting his blonde hair. Alex doesn’t even want to know what Henry was using the flour for in grilled cheese; his boyfriend is good at a lot of things, but unfortunately, cooking is not one of them. “H, you know you don’t need flour for grilled cheese, right?” he asks as he places the iPad to the side and watches Henry sigh dejectedly. He turns off the stove and pushes the pan to the side.
“I’ve figured that out, yeah. I just wanted to cook you something for once.” Pathetically, Alex feels something in his heart melt into a puddle of goo. He’s been with Henry since he was twenty-two, and still Henry manages to turn him into a fresh lover. Article forgotten for a second, Alex pulls Henry into a soft kiss and adjusts the crooked apron.
“I appreciate the effort, sweetheart,” he says, and Henry makes an offended noise at the back of his throat; he pushes Alex’s arms away, though it’s quite weak, and Alex easily holds him with arms wrapped around his torso like ivy. “But I think cooking should be an exclusively me thing around this house.”
“I’m getting better, I promise—”
“Right.”
“I didn’t burn anything this time.”
“Oh, you should’ve started with that,” Alex says mockingly; he ducks when Henry tries to hit him in the chest. “Everything’s changed then, sweetheart. I should’ve never doubted your skills.”
“You’re a bloody demon.”
“Call it what you want.” Alex grins, and he sees the moment annoyance slowly seeps out of Henry’s eyes. No matter the insults, the jokes and banters, Henry’s weak when it comes to Alex’s dimples, and Alex isn’t above using that for his own gain. “You are in love, baby.”
“You’re a demon,” Henry whispers, but then he’s kissing him, and Alex forgets why he was teasing Henry in the first place when they could be kissing.
“What were you going to show me?” It’s only after a few minutes that Henry recovers enough to ask the question, and Alex suddenly remembers why he came to the kitchen in the first place. A grin pulls his lips.
“So.” He grabs his iPad from the counter, and immediately a haunted look crosses Henry’s eyes.
“I do not like the look on your face.”
“Hush. It’s nothing bad.” Henry looks skeptical, but he does take the iPad from Alex. His brows shoot up to his hairline. “I just think… Well, we might’ve done a bit too good of a job writing about a messy breakup.”
“They think…” A laugh escapes Henry’s lips, and suddenly Alex feels the need to swallow it. He grasps Henry’s hips and pulls him into his space, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. Bright blue eyes find his. “They think Exile is about a real person?”
“I mean, it’s Buzzfeed. It’s gotta be true.” Henry looks completely unimpressed, and Alex has to kiss him again. He loops his arms around Henry’s shoulders. “You know…” Another kiss, and slowly, Henry melts under Alex’s touch. “If you wanted this to be our last kiss, you could’ve just told me, sweetheart. We didn’t need a song to announce it to the world.”
“Alex, you wrote the song with me.” Alex’s grin turns mischievous.
“I guess I did. See, there was something I wanted to speak now to you about—” Henry shuts him up, properly this time, with a passionate kiss, and Alex gladly lets himself get lost in it.
Later, when they’re back in the living room, Alex pulls up the article again. “You should really look at number one.” Reluctantly, Henry scrolls down, and almost spurts out a mouthful of Earl Grey. He stares at a laughing Alex.
“Nora’s dating your sister.”
“Yeah, baby. I know.”
ii. Who Left Alex Claremont-Diaz Hanging on His Birthday? The Answer Might Shock You!
“You should really stop watching dramas, baby.”
Henry’s hands still on the piano when Alex sits down next to him, taking about 70% of the seat. He gives Alex an unimpressed look and starts playing again, random delicate melodies filling the room. For a moment, Alex is distracted just watching him; it’s electrifying, watching Henry in his element, coming up with tunes and lyrics that would take Alex forever to even jot down in the span of minutes. Henry’s brow arches when Alex stays silent.
“Is that it? Or is there some exaggerated Buzzfeed article behind that order?”
“First of all, rude of you to imply I’d read Buzzfeed.”
“You still have notifications turned on for it.”
“Second of all,” Alex presses, and plops the tablet on top of the piano notes. It’s a miracle Henry tolerates it with only a sigh on his lips. “I apparently had a heartbreaking birthday party last year that I wasn’t made aware of. I had to figure out who broke my heart so I could fight them, y’know?” Alex gestures at the title of the article, and immediately recognition shines in Henry’s eyes. He drops his face in his hands.
“Is this about—”
“My most recent release?” Alex grins and rests his elbow on the piano notes carelessly. Henry makes a desperate noise at the back of his throat. “Possibly. Though if you ask me, I wouldn’t call a secret escape to a private island with the king of my heart a ‘sad, beautiful, tragic’ birthday.”
“It wasn’t a birthday,” Henry complains hopelessly, hands dropping on his lap. “It was based on a stupid movie about the last great American dynasty and their crazy bride, and how she left her husband hanging. We never even…” Henry shoots Alex a glare when a quiet chuckle escapes his lips. Suddenly, a hand is shoved over Alex’s mouth; he scrambles to hold onto Henry before he takes a tumble and lets out a laugh. “Shut up. We didn’t even mention a birthday in the song.”
“I mean, there is a red cake—”
“A lot of parties have cakes!” Henry throws his hands up, almost knocking over Alex’s iPad, but Alex is way too amused to get mad. Then, quite dramatically, he collapses onto his arms. “They make it sound like I’m some girl at home while you have a whirlwind of love affairs that you sing about.”
Gently, Alex places a hand on his boyfriend’s hair. “Well, for one, we do kind of have an illicit affair going on here, baby.”
“Alex,” Henry complains without even moving and Alex chuckles. He pushes the blonde strands he loves so much away from Henry’s forehead.
“What I mean is, we’ve been keeping this love story secret from the press. And I’m completely fine with that; trust me, it’s nice to have something special that’s just ours. If they could see the way I loved you, no one would have an ounce of doubt that I’m so fucking happy with you.”
Slowly, Henry lifts his eyes. They still looked unsure and annoyed, but when Alex presses his lips on his eyelids, Henry slowly melts into his embrace. “For two,” he continues, carding his fingers through Henry’s curls, “it’s the fucking music industry. They try to stir up drama and find connections where they’re not. Unfortunately, it’s more interesting for me to have my heart broken than admitting the song is completely fictional.”
“Well, the dynasty is actually—”
“For three,” Alex interrupts, “the article’s not actually about a girl this time.” That piques Henry’s attention. He grabs the iPad and scrolls down, mouth dropping open when he actually sees the photo. Alex grins at him. “I mention Liam once after coming out and they never let go.”
“Liam came to your birthday party,” Henry deadpans, and Alex lets out a laugh. He impulsively pulls Henry into another kiss.
“I love you, baby, so fucking much.” With eyes still on Alex’s lips, Henry hums. He starts leaning in for another kiss. “But seriously, no more maudlin movies. At this rate, I’m gonna think you want to break up with me.”
The next second, Alex finds himself on the floor, laughing.
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Alex texts the article to Henry the moment he finds it.
About five seconds later, there’s a crash from upstairs, and Alex almost drops his pan trying not to laugh. He tries to focus on cooking the dinner, ignoring the footsteps coming downstairs, but when Henry appears at the door with the phone in his hand it’s a lost cause. “It wasn’t even a sad song!” he exclaims, throwing himself on the counter with the level of drama of a Disney princess, and Alex has to turn off the stove so he doesn’t burn something. Tears prickle his eyes from laughing.
“It’s not only breakups Hollywood is interested in, baby,” he says; Henry lets out a desperate noise without even looking up. “Hey,” Alex continues and pokes his boyfriend’s arm. “At least they’re not claiming I got my heart broken anymore. The stupid article is literally selling this love like I’ve found my soulmate.”
“That you’ve met your soulmate,” Henry grumbles, voice muffled, and lifts his head. He looks so dejected that Alex suddenly feels the urge to pull him into a kiss. He slides his fingers through Henry’s and pulls his knuckles to his mouth. “Not that…” Henry’s voice trails off, face softer now, staring at their clasped hands. “That you’ve had your forever and always for four years.”
“And three months,” Alex continues, earning an eye roll. Still, the corner of Henry’s lips twitch. “Two weeks, and five days. Sweetheart,” Alex takes Henry’s chin in his fingers and brushes his thumb over his lower lip, “I don’t fucking care if the media thinks I’m single or heartbroken or we’re new romantics or whatever. I’m the lucky one here because you’re mine, and I wouldn’t have it the other way, okay?” Henry still looks unsure, so Alex leans in to press his lips on his. “Okay?”
“Okay.” Henry’s bright eyes meet Alex. He pulls Alex into another kiss, fingers curling around Alex’s hair, and Alex forgets he was even supposed to be cooking as he melts into the kiss.
“It was about you,” Henry says later, as he slowly dices vegetables. Alex arches a brow.
“What?”
“The song I wrote. I thought about what it felt like to meet you for the first time.” Bright blue eyes lift to Alex. “Like I’ve found a place in this world.” Henry offers Alex a shy smile, as if he overstepped his bounds, as if Alex isn’t trying not to have a breakdown over the sheer amount of love he feels for Henry. He leaves the spatula aside and pulls him into a kiss, dinner completely forgotten.
When their rice is burned to a crisp, Alex doesn’t even regret it.
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Alex keeps his face as neutral as possible, standing in front of the front door, listening to Henry unlock it slowly. His iPad rests in his hands, turned to face the door, the article bright against the screen.
“Darling?” Henry calls out before he even lifts his eyes from his phone. “I’m ho—” Then, he comes to a stop, tufts of hair fallen over his forehead from his beanie, and his brows climb to his forehead. Alex has to bite the inside of his cheek so he doesn’t laugh. “Alex? What’s that?”
“So.” Alex rearranges the iPad and zooms in, so the title of the article is larger. Henry’s eyes narrow, no doubt looking at the words London Boy plastered all over Buzzfeed. “Remember last week, when Pez and I went to a charity even together for LGBT+ youth shelters?”
Slowly, Henry drops his briefcase to the side. “I have a feeling I won’t like where this is going.”
“Well…” Alex’s face breaks out into a grin, unable to help himself. “Combine that with the song that we wrote about a certain Mr. Americana and the heartbreak prince…” A blush climbs up Henry’s cheeks; Alex feels the sudden urge to pull him and kiss him on the lips like an invisible string is pulling them together. Instead, he gestures at his iPad. “It seems the tabloids ran ahead with the story of us.”
“You mean…” Henry blinks, mouth opening and closing like a fish. With one hand, Alex scrolls down to the picture of him and Pez shaking hands, brilliant grins on their faces. “You and Pez?” Henry says incredulously, and Alex can’t hold it back anymore. He lets out a laugh, gripping his iPad tight so it doesn’t drop from his hands. “They think you’re dating Pez?”
“I mean, at least it’s not Nora anymore.” There was a time years ago the tabloids refused to believe Nora and Alex broke up and claimed every single song Alex wrote was about her. It was Nora going public with June that finally stopped the hoax. “Besides, Pez’s like, your best friend. It’s pretty much like—”
“Don’t.”
“Dating you.”
“Alex.” Henry shoots him an exasperated look, but when he takes his face in his hands, his touch is impossibly soft. Alex melts under him, leaving the iPad aside to lean into the blank space in Henry’s arms. He captures Henry’s lips with his, delicately sliding a hand in his hair under the beanie.
“I mean,” he murmurs against Henry’s lips, “they haven’t seen me with you. They don’t know how crazier I am about you than anyone else. No wonder they can’t shake it off that I’m apparently serially dating people.” Alex pulls back and offers Henry a lopsided grin, thumbs drawing absentminded circles on his cheekbones. A weird look crosses Henry’s arms, but easily it dissolves into something else, something fond. He pulls Alex into another kiss.
“Though I will say.” Alex looks up from his phone later, a grin on his lips. “Pez is pretty hot. I don’t know if I mind being paired with him.”
“You bloody demon.” Henry makes an attempt to shut Alex up when he dissolves into laughter. “I knew. I fucking knew you were trouble.”
“And you love me anyway.”
Henry doesn’t have an objection to that.
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“So,” Nora drawls out, grinning across the table as she swirls her coffee, “I guess congratulations are in order. Though I wish you would tell me instead of having to find out from the press.”
Alex’s brows shoot up. “For what?”
“For your engagement, of course.” Alex, very delicately, doesn’t spurt out the sip of coffee in his mouth. Instead, he puts the cup in front of him, blinks at Nora, and then pulls out his phone. And there it is—another fucking Buzzfeed article. “Oh my fucking god,” he breathes out, heart momentarily stilling in his chest.
He’s not engaged. He or Henry didn’t propose to each other yet. He should know this. And yet, for one blissful moment, Alex imagined a ring around his finger, a simple gold band or silver or a fucking paper ring even, and the disappointment hits him in the gut hard. He bites down on his lips, tucks the feelings deep down somewhere dark in his chest where it won’t see daylight, and rolls his eyes. “Just because Henry and I wrote a song about a winter wedding doesn’t mean we’re engaged. We were just watching a Hallmark movie, and, y’know…” Alex shrugs. Nora narrows her eyes at his tightened shoulders. “It was like going back to December and there was a wedding, and Henry said he was inspired. These fucking articles, I swear to god.” He recognizes that he sounds like Henry whenever one of these articles come out, but breakups and dates and love is different than…
Than engagement. Marriage. Committing yourself fully to someone, promising them forever, safe and sound in the peace you have with each other. Alex knows it’s heteronormative and stupid and doesn’t even last forever half the time, but he’s a romantic at heart and part of him… Part of him really fucking wants that. He wants the white horse and the love story and the white wedding and the vows and everything. He wants it all with Henry, and the thought hits him squarely in the chest, rendering him speechless.
“You know you could just go public with Henry,” Nora pokes, taking him out of his thoughts, and Alex blinks. He nibbles on his lower lip and stares at the ceiling.
“Well, he’s not really a spotlight, superstar kind of person.” Which is fine. They’ve been making it work for five years now, staying out of public eye and enjoying themselves privately, and Alex wouldn’t exchange it with anything. Just, sometimes… Sometimes he wishes he could hold Henry’s hand outside, hug him and kiss him without a second thought, show the entire world exactly who he’s writing all his love songs for. Just once be Henry’s lover in public instead of behind closed doors. “It’s okay. I mean, we talked about it before and we will go public eventually, just… I think he knows I want that, but he deserves to do it on his own terms.”
Nora doesn’t tell him that Alex deserves to be open about his love. Instead, she taps the rim of her mug and starts mocking the article, and Alex tugs the sleeves of Henry’s sweatshirt down his hands, hugging it close to himself.
He tries not to think about rings or white dresses again.
“Alex, darling?”
Henry calls for him from the living room, and Alex puts aside the chips he’s been nibbling on to procrastinate on cooking dinner. “Yeah?”
“Can you come here for a second? I want to run this new song by you.” Alex’s brows shoot up. He definitely does not stumble out the kitchen doors and doesn’t flip Henry off when an amused look crosses his eyes. He narrows his eyes and makes his way to the piano, leaning against it as if he didn’t just rush like he was running out of the woods.
“I thought we were taking a break from writing.” Their new album just came out and it’s already a big success; with the amount of interviews and appearances and performances Alex is expected to give, they wanted to push off everything that wasn’t getting Alex through a million different things at once. Still, Henry just smiles and shrugs, delicate fingers placed on the piano.
“Inspiration struck,” he says, and Alex just snorts. Of course. Henry can’t not be creative for more than ten minutes. “Do you wanna listen to it or not?” He arches a brow, and Alex has to cave because he always wants to hear Henry sing even though it’s quiet and awkward and not exactly on pitch, always wants to hear Henry’s lyrics. He’s so focused on Henry’s face that he doesn’t notice the nervous twitch in his fingers, doesn’t notice the tight shoulders and foot tapping on the floor, the sparks flying in his eyes. Then, Henry presses the keys, the clearly practiced words of the song filling the room, and Alex’s heart makes a valiant effort to escape his body.
There I see myself as a kid, sittin’ in my room playin’
Princes and crowns, kisses and dances and weddings
The dream of a future that’d keep me up at night prayin’
Now the same lips chase the man of my dreams
There I see myself as a teen, lookin’ across the room searchin’
Brown eyes and curls, a bright smile that keeps my heart beatin’
The dream of a future with the one that fills my dreams
Now the same eyes open in the morning to the sight of him
There I see myself now, sweet secrets and honey kisses, smilin’
The arms around me solid, heartbeats synched, thinkin’
The future of my dreams I’ve stopped chasin’
Because I’ve found my love, I don’t have to keep dreamin’
Because I’ve found my love, I’m going down on my knees
Alex’s breath hitches with the last word. He barely registers that Henry stopped playing a few beats ago—his fingers are tucked into his pocket now, taking out… “Henry,” Alex chokes, and kind of loses the ability to talk when Henry pushes the chair away and kneels down, the box open now. The box with a ring. A simple silver band, bright against the black velvet. A ring. With Henry. As he’s down on one knee. Because he’s proposing. Henry’s proposing.
Alex holds onto the piano so he doesn’t collapse onto the floor. the notes loud against the silence. Henry lets out a laugh and gently takes Alex’s hand in his, and it’s not fair just how composed he looks when Alex is five seconds away from hyperventilating to death, but Alex doesn’t quite have the energy to care. “Alex,” Henry whispers, and Alex tries really hard not to faint and ruin the moment that’s going to long live in his mind, “will you be my forever?” And it’s ugly, but Alex whimpers because marriage is something, but Henry asks for forever, as if he’s sure they’ll be together in this life and the next, and however many lives there are in the universe. As if this love of ours will never die. He takes Henry’s face in his hands, ring momentarily forgotten, and nods.
“Yes. Yes. Like. A billion times. A billion forevers.” Henry laughs with him before he pulls him down into a kiss, and it’s perfect, the press of Henry’s lips, the tears clinging to his eyes, the fingers wrapped around his wrists and the tongue exploring his mouth. Alex doesn’t even believe in perfection, but he thinks at that moment that maybe something gets there once in a million years, and maybe he and Henry managed to find it. That’s the only explanation.
When Alex is distracted by staring at his ring, Henry reaches a hand to the coffee table and steals his phone. Alex only realizes when he finds himself staring at a reflection of himself, eyes bright with unshed tears, ring glinting on his finger. Henry wraps an arm around him to pull him to his chest and presses a kiss on his cheekbone.
“What are you doing?” Alex asks, brow arched. Henry doesn’t say anything. “Henry?”
“Taking a photo.” His smile is genuine but Alex sees the question behind it. “For Instagram. If that’s… If that’s okay with you, too.” His fingers, splayed on Alex’s side, starts drawing soothing circles, and Alex would’ve melted but he can’t quite think beyond Henry’s words. The ease behind…
He stares at the photo. Stares at Henry’s face, visible and recognizable, and the ring on his finger. At the absolute love on their faces. His fingers tighten around Henry’s hand. “Are you sure?” he asks, voice choked with emotion. Part of him expects to see hesitation in Henry’s eyes; instead, he just smiles. He doesn’t say anything, but he does open Instagram.
The photo is up seconds later, with the caption, It’s a love story, baby just say yes…
It gets thousands of likes within minutes.
+i. Who is Alexander Claremont-Diaz’s Fiancé? See Our Exclusive Interview!
For the first time, when Alex sits on the couch across Oliver, he’s not alone. His hand is wrapped around Henry’s, the cold ring pressing against his skin a stark contrast against the warmth of the body at his side, and he’s smiling so hard that it’s a wonder his cheeks don’t hurt yet. In his defense, Oliver is just as gleeful at being their first interviewer.
“So,” he starts, and for once, Alex isn’t scared of the question, “tell me if I’m wrong, but this thing between you and… Henry?” A pretty blush climbs up Henry’s cheekbones, and Alex simple has to lean in to kiss it. Oliver doesn’t really coo, but he does get close. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you guys have been together for a while.”
Alex gives Oliver a toothy grin. “Well, Oliver, actually he proposed the day we met. We just knew we were the one for each other, you know.” Oliver’s eyes widen, and Alex lasts for about a second and a pinch from Henry before he dissolves into laughter. His fiancé rolls his eyes and answers without waiting for Alex to pull himself together.
“Yes, you could say it’s been a while.” Henry looks down at Alex, his blue eyes bright, and suddenly the five years of dating and six years of friendship feels like forever. Alex doesn’t even remember a time he didn’t have Henry in his life.
“You two managed to hide it well,” Oliver says, clearly sounding impressed. “For how long? A year?” And Alex has to snort. Granted, he knows how hard it is to keep a relationship from the public, especially when all you want is to hold your boyfriend’s damn hand in public. He lets his lips twitch into a knowing grin.
“More like five,” he says so casually, and watches as Oliver almost chokes on the water he was about to drink. “I know. Shocking. It’s kind of crazy how many people the media rumored that I was dating when I already had the love of my life with me.” Alex squeezes Henry’s hand and lays his head on his shoulder, grinning when Henry tugs him close. It feels like a blessing to be public after everything.
“So all the breakup songs and love songs you put out… Your album…”
“There’s something called fiction, Oliver,” Alex points out, and Oliver’s lips drop open. Alex leans in then, a glint in his eyes. “Let me give you a secret, though.”
“I’m listening.”
“All my cowriters on those songs?” Alex points at his boyfriend. “This guy. He’s brilliant with words and crafting beautiful stories.”
Oliver’s eyes widen so much that Alex finds himself on Henry’s lap from how much he laughs.