Archive of Our Own ^beta

From the moment Alex first met his roommate, he knew his life would never be the same.

Alex’s family had just left his dorm in a mess of tight hugs and tearful goodbyes – as if he was going off to war or something, and not just starting college – when a young man with the bluest eyes Alex had ever seen walks in, apparently startled to see Alex already there. He freezes in the doorway for a moment, slowly pulling out his earbuds.

“Er. Hello.” His voice curls around the vowels with a smooth British accent Alex was not prepared for. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here yet. They told me the room was empty.”

“I just got here, so maybe that’s why?” Alex walks up to him, looks up at him – he’s tall, with at least three inches of height on him – and extends his hand. “I’m Alex. I’m guessing you’re my roommate?”

“If I’m in the right room, yes. I’m Henry.” His grip is firm, the skin of his hand smooth, and the small smile tugging at his lips looks soft. Alex might be staring a bit. “You’ve chosen your side of the room?”

Alex looks at where he dumped his things on the bed and desk closer to the window. “Yeah, is that okay? I usually sleep better if I’m away from the door, don’t ask me why.” Alex chuckles briefly, hoping he’s not making a fool of himself.

“It’s perfectly fine,” Henry says, still looking at Alex. He seems to realize in that moment that their hands are still touching between them, and clears his throat before letting Alex go.

Alex opens his mouth – to say what, he’s not sure – when someone knocks on their door and a person with bright platinum hair enters their room, grinning wildly at Henry.

“Haz! I thought I heard your lovely voice down the hall.” Henry rolls his eyes in fond annoyance and lets himself be engulfed in a tight hug. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here already?”

“I only just got here,” Henry deadpans. “And I was meeting my roommate before you so rudely interrupted us.”

If Henry’s friend is surprised or displeased by Henry’s nonchalant voice, they don’t show it. Instead, they turn to Alex with a bright smile, like they just noticed him standing there.

“But of course! Any friend of Henry’s is a friend of mine.” They extend a perfectly manicured hand, nails painted black and purple. “Pez, like the sweet. Delighted to make your acquaintance.”

Alex is very confused about this whole interaction, but rolls with it and shakes Pez’s hand. “Hey, I’m Alex. Nice to meet you.”

“Well, my lovely Alex, I was just about to drag Henry here away for a cup of tea as I told him about my roommate, who seems ready to ignore me for the rest of the year already. Care to join us?”

Alex thinks, ‘Why not?’, but just as he opens his mouth to answer, his phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket and sees Nora’s name on the screen.

“Shit. Sorry, my best friend is calling. She won’t stop until I answer,” he says, glancing at them apologetically.

Pez nods. “Another time, then. Come on, Haz, we have a lot to talk about.”

Henry turns to Alex. “I guess I’ll see you later tonight?” His voice is still soft, and Alex only manages a small smile and a nod before Henry follows Pez out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Alex takes a deep breath. He answers the phone before it stops ringing.

“What do you want, MIT?”

“Well hello to you too, Alejandro.”

* * *

Through the first few weeks of classes, Alex discovers Henry is calm and intelligent, and probably the best roommate Alex could get. They never have to argue over who showers first or at what time they’ll turn off the lights – since they are both insomniacs, awake at ungodly hours of the night, a ‘reasonable bedtime’ is something that doesn’t really exist.

The mornings pass in low, sleepy voices and half-closed eyes, neither of them fully functional until they’ve had a less than healthy dose of caffeine. The afternoons are fairly silent too, both of them working at their respective desks with their respective laptops and textbooks, absorbed in papers and assignments. Sometimes they’d go out to one of the dining halls for coffee and tea when Alex’s brain just refused to focus – even with medication, ADHD can be a bitch.

It’s at night that they talk more, before going to sleep. Alex lies in bed and talks about growing up in Texas with his parents and sister, the years that followed his parents’ divorce and his ever present, never changing want to change the world. How he slowly came to realize that there is more than one way to do that.

Henry talks less about his family but gamely tells Alex about meeting Pez when they were teenagers and how they moved across the pond for university together; he shares his sister, Bea, still on the other side of the Atlantic, and his dog, showing Alex pictures of an adorable beagle named David, and only laughs when Alex teases him endlessly about the name, loud and beautiful.

And it would be fine if it was just that, right? If Henry was just a good friend, who just so happens to sleep in the same room as him, with the same fucked up sleep schedule he has, the way he seems to carry a bit too much on his shoulders. It’d be fine if that was all there was.

But Henry brings him coffee in the afternoon when he’s making tea for himself, always with sugar and cinnamon and a soft smile. He makes him take breaks to eat when Alex gets so focused on his essays he forgets to have meals and hydrate, and they get dinner at the falafel stand near campus, talking idly about nonsensical things and getting to know each other better. He realizes Henry’s funny, quick to follow up Alex’s sarcasm with witty remarks of his own, dry humor that startles surprised laughs out of Alex.

He finds himself knowing this person; Alex knows the way Henry looks after staying up for too long and sleeping too little, recognizes the dark circles under his eyes and the way he drags his feet a little. He notices the way Henry bites into his bottom lip when he’s thinking hard about something, brow furrowed in concentration, how he drags a hand through his hair almost absentmindedly.

He’s almost intimately familiar with the way Henry rolls his eyes at him when he claims tea is an abomination, and how he laughs so hard he cries when Alex tells him about arguing with his high school English teacher until she gave up and conceded that Alex’s answer on the test was, in fact, correct, and he deserved a higher score.

“You have a thing for arguing, don’t you?” Henry asks, wiping the tears at the corners of his eyes.

“Hence the whole ‘studying to be a lawyer’ thing,” Alex replies cheekily.

Most of all, he’s making Alex feel things.

Like the way his heart jumps in his chest every time he sees Henry still asleep in the morning, lips slightly parted and soft looking blonde hair falling on his forehead; the way he finds himself alarmingly addicted to the sound of Henry’s laugh and keeps saying the most nonsensical things he can think of, just to hear it again.

The way they sit maybe a little too close when watching a movie together on Alex’s laptop, their shoulders touching, and Alex feels his skin burning on all points of contact. And that one time Henry fell asleep with his head resting on Alex’s shoulder, and Alex refused to move a muscle for a whole of twenty-seven minutes, afraid he’d wake him up.

Alex is quickly falling for him, hard and irrevocably.

This is a revelation that comes with a little burst of panic and a long talk on the phone with Nora, which makes him realize that maybe, maybe he isn’t as straight as he previously thought. It’s fine. He’s figuring it out. It’s fine.

He’s also noticed other things about Henry.

He knows the way Henry’s eyes are usually bright and alive, but he sees how they look empty sometimes, hollow, unfocused as he stares out the window like in a trance; he knows the curl of Henry’s smile and the corners of his mouth that tug up in a wicked smirk, but he notices the tight smile Henry shows him sometimes, the one that looks almost painful on his face and disappears in a matter of seconds.

He knows the mornings where Henry is already up before Alex’s alarm even rings, all bright eyes and easy smiles and too much energy for seven am, but he doesn’t forget the days Henry stays in bed for a while longer, eyes repeatedly blinking up at the ceiling, only really starting to get up when Alex is already leaving for class, dragging his body up and away from the covers like it weighs on him.

There is a sadness in him that Alex never fully understands. And he doesn’t have to, not really; he cares about Henry just as much on his bad days as he does on his good days, when he’s talking Alex’s ear off and when they sit in silence side by side, Henry’s favorite Star Wars movie playing in the background (even if it was the wrong one, as Alex keeps reminding him).

On those days, Alex does what he can; he has an idea of what depression can look like, recognizes some things in Henry he also used to see on his stepfather, and knows not to push too hard, or make him talk until he’s ready.

So, he brings Henry tea in the evening when he’s slumped on his desk and sits with him in his bed with his laptop in hand, playing Bake Off because it’s soothing and doesn’t require much attention. He combs his fingers gently through Henry’s hair after asking ‘Is this okay?’ and Henry nods his consent, tentatively letting Alex brush it away from his eyes until he falls asleep like that.

At first, Henry is hesitant to accept Alex’s comforting gestures, a weary look in his eyes like he’s trying to see through him and figure out his true intentions. Alex doesn’t mind and lets him look, steady and open under Henry’s scrutinizing gaze. He doesn’t stop.

Slowly, carefully, that weariness in Henry’s face fades away, and he accepts the tea with thankful smiles, embraces Alex’s company with tired eyes, leans into his touch with soft sighs of contentment.

In a way, they take care of each other. It’s a sort of unspoken agreement that makes Alex’s heart squeeze a little inside his ribcage, makes his chest a little lighter and Henry’s eyes shine a little more. It’s new, but it’s good.

Alex is not quite sure what it means yet, but he knows he likes it.

* * *

Alex makes his way across the university’s hallway to his room, almost three months in on his first year, tired after a long day of classes and forgetting to have lunch. His stomach grumbles at the reminder. His bag hangs on his shoulder like a dead weight, heavy with books and papers and the agonizing promise of long working nights to come.

When he opens the door to his room, he’s immediately greeted with the sight of Pez’s baby blue hair and sparkling blazer, standing in the middle of the room with a devilish grin on their face. Henry sits on his bed, arms folded on his chest with a much less happy look.

“Alexander, my knight in shining armor!” Pez loops an arm around his shoulders and drags him to stand in front of Henry. “Fantastic. Will you please, please help me drag Henry’s introvert arse to a party tonight? The poor lad doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

“I do know, and it’s you with a tray of vodka shots,” Henry says with a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Nothing good ever comes from that. The last time it happened, I had such a raging headache the next day I couldn’t even stand my own thoughts.”

Pez ignores him and keeps looking at Alex expectantly. Alex looks between their hopeful eyes and Henry’s pleading gaze, calculating the options in his head.

“A party could be fun,” he says slowly, and Pez whoops in approval as Henry falls back on the mattress with an exasperated groan.

“I could kiss you right now,” Pez says, sporting a wide grin and grabbing Alex by the shoulders. “You heard that, Haz? It’s Friday and we’re going to a party, no more excuses. Alex, you’re obviously more than welcome to come too.”

“Thanks,” he says genuinely as Henry glares at him with no real heat in his eyes.

He watches with barely concealed amusement as Pez and Henry stare each other down, unblinking in a silent battle for dominance. After long moments where Alex debates whether he should calmly slip out of the room, Henry rolls his eyes and mumbles something under his breath.

“What was that, babes?” Pez asks, their voice smug and victorious.

“Fine, I’ll go to the bloody party. Christ,” Henry murmurs, trying to look upset, but Alex can see the hint of a smile already creeping up on his face.

“Damn right you will. Okay.” Pez clasps their hands together. “I will swing by at eight-thirty and personally escort you to the location to make sure you really come. Dress slutty, my friends!” With a wink and an exaggerated bow, they leave the room and close the door behind them.

Alex turns to Henry with a wide grin. “I like Pez.”

“Of course you do,” Henry mutters, but the smile is now fully visible on his face and he uncrosses his arms. “You don’t have to come tonight, you know? I know Pez can be a little intense, but if you’re not up for it, that’s okay. Truly.”

Alex’s throat tightens a little, and he swallows. “I know. But I want to. It’s been a day. Honestly, it’s been a week. I just need a distraction from anything school related.”

Henry’s smile turns softer, and his shoulders release some tension Alex hadn’t been aware of. “Alright. Good. So—”

Alex’s stomach grumbles again, loudly. Right. Food.

Henry raises an eyebrow at him. “Alex, did you forget to eat lunch again?”

Alex blinks. “I— maybe?”

Henry shakes his head fondly. Alex’s heart expands in his chest. “Come on then,” he says, standing up and reaching for his keys. “We still have a couple of hours before Pez shows up to drag our sorry arses to God knows where. We can get an early dinner.”

“That kebab place?” Alex asks hopefully as he grabs his coat.

When Henry says, “Wherever you want to go,” the words whispered somewhere above Alex’s head, his voice comes out softer than he probably intended.

* * *

They arrive at the party around nine o’clock at night. Pez leads them to a small mansion filled with drunk college students, loud music coming from the inside. Red plastic cups are already lying on the steps leading up to the house, drunk couples making out against tall trees and not-so-tall bushes.

Pez grins eagerly and steps inside. Henry just sighs in resignation. Alex drops his jaw on the floor.

“This is a college party?” he asks, dumbstruck. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Darling, you should see the ones they had in England!” Pez yells ahead of them.

Alex opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens again. “I have a feeling Pez is rich. I don’t know it took me so long to come to this conclusion, but it just makes sense.”

“Absolutely loaded,” Henry confirms distractedly. He turns to Alex. “Ready for this?”

“Well I thought I was.”

They enter through the front door, and it’s even bigger than it looked from it outside. The space is huge, with at least two dance floors and three living rooms that Alex can count. And it’s packed.

“I feel like I’m gonna get lost in here at least three times!” Alex yells to Henry over the deafening music. He keeps bumping into people, trying to not lose sight of Henry among the sea of loud, inebriated students.

Henry grabs his hand and pushes through the crowd. Alex can feel his heart skip a beat. He adjusts his grip to lace their fingers together, and Henry’s grasp only tightens. Alex is in serious risk of passing out.

They meet Pez by the kitchen after several long minutes of searching the place – Alex has no idea how they got here so easily. They’re standing by the drinks, dozens of bottles at hand, from cheap beer to expensive whiskeys. Three vodka shots are already lined up beside Pez.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Henry mumbles, but gamely takes his shot and they all throw it back at the side time. The alcohol burns pleasantly down Alex’s throat, and he stares shamelessly at the column of Henry’s neck, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. He pours another round.

Pez then drags them away to the closest dance floor and quickly starts dancing with a sweet-faced boy with freckles and a shy smile, leaving Henry and Alex alone in the middle of so many people, the former looking stiff and uncertain of himself.

“Henry, you have to dance,” Alex screams over the noise, stepping closer to him.

“I don’t dance,” Henry replies easily, his eyes fixed on Alex.

Alex snorts. “Bullshit. Everybody dances if they have the right teacher.”

“And I suppose you’re going to teach me?”

“Sweetheart, I’ll blow your fucking mind.” He places his hands loosely on Henry’s hips, a silent question in his eyes, then tightens his grip when Henry nods and relaxes slightly under his touch.

Alex sways them in time with the music, grinning up at Henry as he starts to move by himself and beams down at Alex, slowly letting go of his inhibitions like all he needed was two shots of vodka and Alex’s hands urging him on – though, he suspects the alcohol had little to do with it.

“See? You absolutely can dance,” Alex says, loose-lipped and warm, and Henry blushes and tries to hide it by rolling his eyes.

They dance for a long while and grab more drinks before Alex excuses himself to use the bathroom, walking in on at least two occupied with drunk couples until he finds an empty one. It’s seriously so fancy he’s almost afraid to use it.

Afterwards, it takes him almost ten minutes to find his way back to where he left Henry and he searches the crowd, looking for a familiar mop of blond hair hovering slightly above the sea of heads. He finds him standing in a corner talking to a red-haired guy, a polite smile on his face as the man goes on about something Alex can’t hear over the music.

Something unpleasant curls in his stomach as he sees how close they’re standing, but he pushes it down. Henry seems to be a bit distracted, eyes searching the crowd every now and then. When his gaze finds Alex’s, his smile softens and his shoulders relax, and he excuses himself to the guy, stepping away from him as he meets Alex halfway.

“Hey. Are you okay?” he asks, brows slightly furrowed, and Alex realizes he must have been staring. He shakes himself off and smiles easily.

“Fucking stellar. But I think I saw Pez leave with someone?”

“Yes, they said they were going home with someone they met here.” He eyes Alex for a while with an unreadable expression. “Do you want to leave? We can head back to the dorm, if you want. Don’t stay on my account.”

Alex stares back, takes in his flushed cheeks and soft eyes. He really doesn’t want to leave.

“We don’t have to go right away,” he says slowly, and sighs in relief as Henry gives him a crooked smile too big for his face.

They walk around the house to the backyard where the music is less intense and get invited to play a game of beer pong with two punk-looking girls. Henry is surprisingly good at it, scoring again and again until a small crowd has gathered around to watch him play, whooping and urging him on.

He’s so focused on the game he doesn’t notice everyone around them right away, and startles at the pats on the shoulder and ‘good game’ thrown his way. He just ducks his head shyly and zeros in on Alex, who’s looking at him with his mouth hanging open.

“What?”

“How the fuck are you so good at this?”

“It’s math,” he says, sheepish. “It’s really just about the right angles and all that.”

Alex has no idea what the hell he’s talking about, and he suspects the alcohol is not the only reason.

“Also, I used to play polo.”

That, Alex understands. “You played polo,” he parrots back.

“Yes.”

“The kind with horses?”

“Yes, that polo.”

Alex is a little too drunk for this conversation. “I’m too drunk to have this conversation right now,” he says, grinning at Henry’s cute and confused face and pulling him inside the house again.

He takes Henry’s hand this time to push through the crowd, stopping in the middle of the dance floor crowded by hundreds of strangers, but he can only see Henry. They stand close together because really, there’s not much space to move around, but neither of them seems much inclined to put some distance between them, even if they could.

Henry’s fingertips touch the back of his elbow and his breath tickles Alex’s nose, warm and welcome. He doesn’t do anything, because they’re drunk, and Alex wants to do it right, when they’re both sober and clear-headed, when Henry can kiss him back because he wants, not because he’s too intoxicated to push away.

So, he only stares back into Henry’s eyes and maps out his face, his high cheekbones and sharp nose, the curl of his mouth and the teeth sinking into his lower lip like he’s fighting off another smile. He looks and lets Henry see him too, walls down and inviting. He understands new things about himself in that moment, between a multitude of people he doesn’t know and a boy that he does, like something inside his head was messy and hidden and Henry just slotted it all into place with gentle eyes and careful touches.

It should be scary, really. But Alex has never felt so unafraid.

*

It’s past one-thirty in the morning when they finally stumble back to their room, swaying slightly and bickering like kids. It takes Alex three tries to lock the door behind him, and they keep laughing and shushing each other every two minutes before losing it again.

They have half a mind to brush their teeth before bed, crowding into the bathroom together against the tiny sink, side by side with their arms brushing against each other. Putting on their pajamas takes longer than expected, with clumsy and uncoordinated hands, and if Alex catches a glimpse of Henry’s smooth back and his strong shoulders before quickly averting his eyes, no one needs to know but him.

They get under the covers, falling back against the mattresses with tired sighs.

“Can I ask you something?”

Alex whispers the words, slightly slurred, into the ceiling of the quiet room. He wonders if it’s the remaining alcohol in his blood giving him courage to blurt out the words hanging in the back of his mind.

“Sure.”

Alex turns his face to the other side of the room. “Why do you never bring anyone over?”

He can see Henry’s brow furrow slightly in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not, like, a critique,” Alex says quickly. “Just something I noticed. You don’t bring anyone over, or spend the night anywhere else. And I saw the way that guy was looking at you tonight. Y’know, the ginger one. But you left. Which, of course, you have every right to,” he adds hastily again. Fuck, alcohol may be liquid courage, but it doesn’t make you coherent. “But y’know.”

Henry luckily doesn’t seem put off by his question or poor wording, and his lips quirk up into a small smile in the dark room. He turns his head to face Alex. “You never have anyone over either.”

Alex shrugs. “I don’t really do casual. It’s not my thing.” Henry just looks at him for a moment, slightly in awe, and Alex clears his throat. “Anyway, don’t change the subject.”

Henry keeps looking at him. “He wanted to take me home,” he says after a moment, like it’s that simple.

“And you didn’t want that?” There’s no judgment in Alex’s voice, just curiosity.

Henry smiles a little more. “I’m demi. Not really interested in one-night stands.”

“Oh.” Alex’s inebriated brain takes a moment to process the information. “Okay. Cool.”

Henry snorts, inelegantly but still weirdly attractive. “‘Cool?’ Really?”

“Yes, cool.” Alex laughs with him. Then he adds, softly, “Thank you for telling me.”

Henry’s laughter dies down moderately, and his eyes soften. “Thank you for listening.”

“Anytime.” He swallows, suddenly a little nervous. “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah.”

He waits for a moment, then another; breathes in deeply. “I’m bi. I think I only just started to realize it.”

Henry’s smile grows impossibly wider on his face. “Okay. Cool. Thank you for telling me.”

Alex laughs quietly, breathlessly, relieved, the tightness he hadn’t noticed on his chest gone now. “Thank you for listening.”

He watches as Henry’s eyes flutter shut until he can’t keep them open anymore, listens to the sound of his steady breathing fill the otherwise silent room. He falls asleep to thoughts of Henry’s bright eyes illuminating a dark dorm and the way his blond strands of hair fall on his pillow, lips slightly parted as he sleeps peacefully.

Strangely, it’s the best sleep Alex has gotten in months.

* * *

The next morning comes too soon with a headache and too much light coming from the window. Alex groans and tries to hide back under the covers, only to be stopped by a warm hand on his.

Henry’s hair is slightly tousled and there are dark circles under his eyes, but he looks soft in dark grey sweats as he smiles down at Alex, the sunlight reflecting on his golden hair. He’s fucking beautiful.

“How are you so awake?” Alex mumbles sleepily, barely opening his eyes.

“Good morning to you too,” Henry says, a little smug. “It’s ten am.”

Alex whines. “So early.”

Soft fingers push a curl away from his forehead, and he opens his eyes again to see Henry pointing to the glass of water and a couple pills on the nightstand. “I left you some water and Aspirin for your head, if you need it. Stay hydrated, okay?”

Alex swallows. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “I honestly would hug you so hard right now if the thought of moving didn’t hurt so much.”

Henry chuckles, a low sound that melts Alex’s heart a little. His hand is still brushing the curls on top of his head. “I’m meeting Pez in a few minutes, they want to go for brunch or something. I don't know what time I'll be back, but text me if you need anything, alright?”

Scratch that – Alex’s heart is melting all the way. He nods and smiles and tells Henry to have fun and give Pez a piece of his mind for him, watching him laugh wholeheartedly as he walks out the door. It’s a good day.

*

The weekend comes and goes with an alarming number of pending essays and a copious amount of coffee – despite Henry’s best efforts to replace it with water – and the rest of the week is no less busy.

He spends long hours curled up at his desk with his laptop, typing word after word, writing and rewriting until the sentences all blur together. He goes to class and throws himself into work as soon as he gets to his dorm again, getting as far as actually using his glasses when his eyes hurt too much. It probably doesn’t help that he hasn’t been sleeping right.

On Thursday, he goes to the library after class; he knows Henry is planning to call his sister today and he wants to give him some privacy so they can talk freely, since he hasn’t had a chance to talk to her properly in ages.

He sits at a desk in the furthest corner of the school’s library and pulls out his textbooks and papers, spreading them all over the table with a pen and highlighters, and his laptop. He turns it on and opens a new document, hoping to get a head start on an essay that isn’t due for another three weeks.

Nothing. Minutes go by and he hasn’t written a single word. He searches his brain for all the words he used to know – and he knows quite a lot of them, in more than one language, even – but they seem to have left him now.

He shakes it off; he didn’t bring his glasses and the light from the screen is hurting his eyes. That’s probably all it is. He redirects his focus to his papers instead, picking up a highlighter and reading paragraph after paragraph, trying to take in the words in front of him but they just won’t make sense. He reads the same page four times from top to bottom without retaining more than a couple loose words before giving up on that too, trying to understand what his brain is playing at.

He turns to his textbooks as a last resort, but it’s no use; the words ‘International Politics’ stare back at him like he’s an idiot, and when he does eventually open the book, it’s another cruel joke. Words and sentences and paragraphs come together and he doesn’t understand any of them, uselessly trying to force himself to read them.

His eyes close. This is fine.

He knows his brain, what works for him and doesn’t, but all he notices is that the lights are too bright, and the room is deafeningly silent but his mind is so damn loud, and his phone is dead so he can’t even use music as a distraction. His eyes hurt and his body aches from sitting in the same position with his shoulders slumped for so long.

He actually has no idea how long he’s been here, but it couldn’t be more than forty-five minutes. An hour, tops.

He puts his head in his hands. He just needs to breathe, that’s all. If he takes a deep breath, then another, he’ll be able to focus on the sentences in front of him. He just needs to focus.

He has no idea how long he’s been breathing like that when a voice calls out his name.

“Alex?”

He lifts his head to see Henry sitting next to him, watching him with worried eyes and slightly out of breath. Did he run here?

“Oh hey,” Alex says, clearing his throat. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I— I was looking for you. You didn’t come back to the dorm, and you weren’t answering your phone.”

He curses quietly. “It’s dead, I forgot to charge it last night. Are you okay? Do you need anything?” His brain is already unhelpfully thinking of all the horrible things that could have happened while he was unreachable.

“No. No, I was just worried about you.” Alex relaxes slightly before noticing Henry is frowning, and mirrors the action.

“Why would you be—” He cuts himself off as he takes a look around to see the library completely empty. His eyes slip to the clock on the wall: 22:24. Shit. “Oh.”

“Yeah. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Alex tries to smile, but it must come out sort of shaky. “Thank you. I didn’t realize how long I’d been here, just wanted to get a head start on some work. I should probably leave anyway,” he says, and starts to get up.

The room swims around him, dark spots appearing in his line of vision. His knees buckle slightly and he has to grip the edge of the desk to stay upright and exhale deeply through his nose. Fuck, his head is pounding.

“Alex? Yeah, you’re not okay.” Henry’s voice is a little distant, and starting to sound panicked.

“No, I’m good, really,” Alex says stubbornly. “Just a little lightheaded, but it’s fine.” He forces his eyes open and looks up at Henry’s blue eyes and pursed lips. His fingers twitch at his sides like he’s forcing them still.

Then, his expression clears a little. “Hey. When was the last time you ate anything?”

Alex blinks. “I, uh. We had breakfast together before class? So coffee and bread.”

“And as for the rest of the day?” Henry asks again, achingly soft.

He searches his brain. “I— My morning classes finished around noon, and I had another coffee because I was exhausted. I started reading something on my phone when suddenly it was time for my next class?” He looks down at his hands where they’re fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, slowly putting the pieces together. “So I went and I knew you wanted to call your sister today and I wanted to give y’all space, so I came here instead.” He peers back at Henry and meets his worried gaze. His voice comes out in a whisper. “It just slipped my mind.”

Henry nods. “Okay. It’s okay, darling, we just need to get some food in you, alright?” He raises his arm in front of Alex, hand stops an inch away from his curls. “Can I—”

“Yeah.” Alex practically breathes out the word before Henry can finish.

Long fingers push their way into his hair, tangling in the messy curls and gently massaging his scalp. Alex leans into the touch and rests his forehead on Henry’s shoulder, feeling the warm skin under the layers of clothes.

For a few moments, Alex’s mind goes completely silent, and he sags with relief.

They stay like that for a while, standing in a dark corner at the back of the library, wrapped in a small bubble that is just them. Henry keeps running his fingers along Alex’s curls, applying the exact right amount of pressure, and a few minutes pass before he lifts his head and looks up at Henry’s soft eyes.

He takes Henry’s free hand briefly and squeezes once. “Thanks for coming to look for me.”

Henry squeezes back. “Of course, Alex. Just don’t worry me like that again,” he says in a low voice, and he sounds so honest Alex’s heart clenches a little in his chest as he nods quietly. “Dinner now?”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a small chuckle, and Henry smiles widely at him in return. “Dinner.”

Henry doesn’t let go of his hand until they reach the pizza place near campus. Alex doesn’t object.

But he does think about it. He thinks about holding Henry’s hand just because it’s comforting, or running his fingers through his hair because it’s so soft, or hugging him spontaneously because he’s warm, and kissing him on his pink lips whenever because he wants. God, Alex wants that. And he thinks, not for the first time, that Henry might want that too, if the way he’s smiling at him across the table is any indication.

He'll tell him. He will. Soon.

* * *

It all comes down to one night, and the morning after.

But how they get there isn’t exactly what Alex expected.

* * *

Alex wakes up sometime after falling asleep on Friday night with some strange noise. He’s immediately annoyed – because he was actually sleeping for once – and if this is the guys next door who never know when to shut up, Alex is going to give them a piece of his mind.

All of his anger quickly dissolves when he hears the noise again and realizes it’s coming from inside the room. He bolts upright, turning to his right to see Henry whimpering and fighting against the sheets, very clearly having a nightmare.

“Shit.” He pushes back the covers and crosses the short distance between his and Henry’s bed, hovering there. “Henry, wake up.”

He doesn’t want to touch Henry in case that only makes things worse, so he just stands there uncertainly, watching his roommate thrashing against the sheets. “Henry,” he says again, louder this time. “Come on, you need to wake up.” He’s really trying not to panic. Henry only whimpers in response.

Alex’s previous resolve dissolves and he sits on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on Henry’s shoulder, not too hard but firmly. “Henry!”

Henry’s eyes fly open immediately, and he scrambles into a sitting position with wild, frantic eyes searching the room.

“Hey, I’m here,” Alex says until Henry’s eyes focus on his. His breath is coming in short, shallow intakes, his eyes red rimmed and watering as he opens and closes his mouth multiple times, no actual words coming out.

Fuck, he’s having a panic attack.

“Hen, I need you to breathe for me, okay? Slowly, in and out.” He takes one of Henry’s hands and presses it to his own chest, right above his heart, hoping the steady pulse under his skin helps ground him. Henry digs his finger into the skin, and his eyes calm a little.

Alex takes his other hand, lacing their fingers together and letting Henry squeeze it until he can barely feel his knuckles. A choked sob escapes Henry’s throat and he seems to panic even more, eyes desperate and lost as they stare into Alex’s like he holds all the answers.

Alex shuffles closer to him and presses their foreheads together. “You’re okay, H,” he whispers into the dark. “It’s just you and me, alright? You’re safe, I’m not going anywhere. But I need you to breathe for me, okay? We’ll do it together.”

He makes a big show of inhaling deeply through his nose, holding the air in his lungs for a few seconds before exhaling slowly. He repeats the action again and again until Henry’s breathing slows to a somewhat normal pace. The hand pressing Henry’s palm to his chest travels up to his hair, burying his fingers into the blonde strands of hair at the nape of Henry’s neck. “That’s it, you’re doing so well. You’re okay.”

They stay like that for long minutes until Henry pulls back enough to look Alex in the eye. He looks calmer now, the impossible blue in his eyes like the sea after a storm: calm and alive.

“Hey.” Alex brushes his thumb on Henry’s face, wiping away the tears that escaped him and ran down his cheeks. “How are you feeling?”

Henry swallows hard, and doesn’t answer right away. “Better,” he says quietly, almost inaudibly. His voice is raspy. “I’m sorry—”

“Hey, no,” Alex interrupts gently. “None of that, okay? You have nothing to apologize for.”

Henry blinks at him and nods, slowly, like he’s hearing those words for the first time. It breaks Alex’s heart a little.

“I’m gonna get you some water, okay?” he says softly, feeling Henry squeeze his hand again before his grip relaxes. Alex practically runs to the jug of water on the other side of their room and fills up a glass, going back to Henry’s bed and sitting closer to him than before.

He takes Henry’s hand again as he sips on the water and drinks almost all of it, swiping his thumb back and forth on his knuckles in a comforting motion. He places the glass on the nightstand when Henry’s done and lightly touches his fingertips to Henry’s jaw, feeling the remains of tension fade away.

“Thank you,” Henry whispers, wrapping his free hand loosely around Alex’s wrist. “Sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t mention it.” Alex smiles reassuringly and tucks Henry’s hair behind his ear. “You know you can talk to me, right? You don’t have to,” he adds hurriedly when Henry’s eyes widen and his mouth opens again. “But you can, about anything. I’m here for you, Hen.”

Henry’s hand tightens a little around his wrist as he leans into Alex’s touch, closing his eyes and taking a shaky breath through his nose. He says in a voice so low Alex almost doesn’t hear it, “I know. I promise, I know.”

Alex smiles at this beautiful, beautiful man in front of him that managed to steal his heart before Alex even knew what was happening. “You should go back to sleep. It’s really early.”

“Yeah,” Henry agrees, but he doesn’t move, and his eyes meet Alex’s again. He still looks vulnerable and bare, and Alex suddenly has an idea.

“Scoot over.”

Henry blinks, startled. "What?"

“Scoot over,” Alex repeats, lightly nudging Henry’s shoulder with the hand that rested on his hair. “You're exhausted, you had a panic attack and you're overthinking, so I'm gonna hold you until you fall asleep again. That okay?”

Henry blinks again, looking at Alex like he’s speaking a completely different language. “I— What?”

Alex sighs, looking down at where their hands are still intertwined. “I used to have nightmares too,” he says quietly. “When I was a kid. My sister would come into my room and stay with me until I fell asleep again. It worked every time.”

They don’t say anything for a minute; not until Henry squeezes his hand and Alex meets his gaze again, finding soft eyes and the hint of a smile on his lips.

Henry nods, slowly but surely. “Alright.”

He lies back down on the bed and rolls over, facing away from Alex. Alex climbs into bed behind him, gently pressing his chest to Henry’s back and wrapping one arm carefully around his torso, placing his open palm right above Henry’s heart.

“Okay?” he whispers, just to be sure Henry’s comfortable.

He feels deft fingers curl around the back of his hand, lacing them together. “Okay,” comes Henry’s voice, already low and heavy with sleep.

Alex touches his nose to the nape of Henry’s neck. “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He doesn’t need to say it twice. Fifteen minutes later, the only sound in their dark room is their even, steady breathing as they fall asleep in each other’s arms.

* * *

Alex wakes up slowly, something warm and comfortable moving around him.

He opens his eyes leisurely and takes in the sight in front of him; they must have moved sometime during the night, because he’s now lying on his back with Henry curled up next to him, his head resting on Alex’s shoulder and one of his arms thrown over his chest. Alex has one of his arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders and a hand touching his blonde hair, still impossibly soft between his fingers. Their legs are tangled together under the covers.

He realizes suddenly Henry’s trying to detach himself from him, moving carefully. Alex is immediately wide awake.

“Hey, what—”

“Shh,” Henry says quietly, voice still a little thick with sleep that is definitely making Alex feel things. “I just need to use the loo. Go back to sleep.”

Alex relaxes and loosens his grip on him so Henry can get out of bed and stride across the room to the bathroom. He doesn’t go back to sleep, though; he’s too awake now.

He reaches for his phone to check the time: 9:31. There’s no way he’s falling asleep again. It’s a miracle he slept this long, really. Though, he supposes Henry might have a bit to do with that, his warm body around him like a weighted blanket on a cold winter day, safe and comforting.

He hears the water running in the bathroom sink for a minute before the door opens to reveal Henry again, looking fresh faced and a little more awake. His hair is tousled, and his shoulders are mostly relaxed. Alex realizes he’s looking at his bed, where Alex is lying, and hesitating slightly.

Alex opens his arms silently, inviting, and Henry’s eyes soften as the remains of tension on his shoulders melt away completely. He crosses the room again with long steps and resumes his position at Alex’s side, laying his head on his shoulder again.

“Good morning,” Alex says with a smile, placing one arm on Henry’s back again, drawing small circles on his skin over his sleeping shirt.

“Morning,” Henry says softly against his skin, hot breath ghosting over his collarbones.

“How are you feeling?”

Henry takes a moment to respond. “Good. I feel okay.” He clears his throat and doesn’t quite meet Alex’s eyes. “Thank you, for last night. You didn’t have to do that.”

Alex nudges his nose against the hair on top of Henry’s head. “I know. I wanted to.”

Henry doesn’t look at him.

“Henry.” He places his free hand under Henry’s chin and tilts his head up gently, drowning in that ocean blue when their eyes meet, even if a little reluctantly from Henry’s part. “I wanted to do it. To take care of you. I didn’t make any sacrifices last night, or any other day, for that matter.” His hand travels up Henry’s jaw to cup his cheek. “Okay?”

“Why?” Henry asks, but his voice, while still a little vulnerable, is steady. Like he’s looking for something in Alex he’s almost positive he’ll find.

Alex doesn’t look away from him. “Because you do the same for me. And, again, I wanted to. I care about you.” It’s the closest thing he can say without blurting out a confession, and his heartbeat is loud in his ears.

Henry doesn’t say anything, only stares at him, but his face speaks louder than words ever could. His eyes are clear and bright, his cheeks pink and warm, the corner of his mouth tugging up almost imperceptibly.

He moves, propping himself up on the bed with one arm next to Alex’s head and brings the other up to his face. He connects his fingertips with Alex’s collarbone, traveling up to the column of his neck and along his jawline, touching the skin of his cheeks with a reverence that makes Alex’s breath catch.

“Please tell me I haven't read this all wrong,” Henry whispers into the quiet room, hovering above Alex with a smile now fully visible on his face.

Alex can’t help but smile back. “You haven't. I promise, you really haven’t.”

Henry cups his face and touches his thumb to the corner of Alex’s mouth. “May I?” he asks, looking down at Alex’s lips with something akin to wonder in his eyes.

Alex nods, maybe even says ‘please’ but he can’t remember, because then Henry is leaning down and his eyes slip shut as his mind goes blank.

Henry tastes like early mornings and late nights and the promise of many more to come. He tastes like Earl Grey and the perfect way he makes Alex’s coffee with sugar and cinnamon and the gentle smiles thrown his way at random times of the day. He tastes like good days and bad days and whole-hearted laughs mixed with long, comforting hugs when the world feels a little too much to bear.

He sort of tastes like home.

Alex moves his lips under him in a close-mouthed kiss that he feels down to his toes, bringing both of his hands up to hold Henry’s cheeks gently between his palms. He feels Henry’s hand push up into his hair as he run his fingers through the curls on the side of his head, the way his lips curl into a smile where they’re pressed on Alex’s.

Henry swipes his tongue along Alex’s bottom lip and he opens his mouth without a second thought, sighing and melting into the sheets at the feeling of Henry’s tongue dragging along his as if in an intimate dance. He lets his hands fall from Henry’s face and wraps his arms around his neck, keeping him there in their languid pace, not a hint of rush or hurry in their movements.

After what feels like too little time, Henry breaks the kiss slowly to rest their foreheads together, panting slightly against Alex’s lips. His skin tingles with the memory of Henry’s touch, and he can’t help but grin cheerfully up at him.

“So,” Henry says after pulling away enough to lock their eyes together. He’s smiling too. “We did that.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees. “Yeah, we did that.”

Henry nudges their noses together. “I’m glad we did. In case that wasn’t clear enough, I care about you too. Have for quite a while.”

“Oh really?” Alex says teasingly. “When did that happen?”

“Approximately two seconds after I saw you,” Henry says promptly, not even a little bit joking.

Alex’s smile is too big for his face. “Okay. Cool. Glad we cleared that up.”

Henry just rolls his eyes fondly and leans down to kiss him again.

They go out for a late breakfast and spend the day in bed, stocked on food for the rest of the weekend. They turn on one of their laptops to play Bake Off but don’t really pay attention to it, talking in hushed whispers even if they’re the only ones in the room, sharing stories and laughs and soft kisses.

Henry refuses to let him work. ‘You work too hard. It’s okay to take a day off, love,’ and Alex can’t say no to him; he isn’t sure if it’s Henry’s honest voice or the soft pet name rolling off his tongue, but his insides feel like liquid gold and he’s helpless to do much more than nod and lean into him.

So, he takes the weekend off from schoolwork in favor of staring at Henry’s beautiful eyes and watching him blow on his tea, the tips of his ears pink with the blush creeping up his neck. It’s cute. His skin is warm when Alex springs it with light kisses.

That night, Alex doesn’t go back to his own bed; they just push them together and he lets Henry pull the covers over their bodies and lays his head on Henry’s pillow, feeling strong arms wrap around his middle and pull him back against his broad chest. The last thing he registers before surrendering to sleep is Henry’s warm lips on the nape of his neck, soft and curling into a private smile.

* * *

Sunday morning comes in sleepy voices and morning breath and gentle kisses. Alex grabs Henry by the waist to trap him when he tries to sneak away to brush his teeth. Henry barely pulls up a fight.

After breakfast, Henry slips to the bathroom to take a shower and Alex lounges on the bed, checking his phone and answering a couple texts from June and Nora to let them know he’s taking care of himself – which is mostly true – and doing alright.

He doesn’t tell them about Henry – not just yet. He just wants to take things at his own pace, and maybe keep Henry all to himself for a little longer. Fucking sue him.

There’s a knock on the door a couple minutes later, and Alex almost drops his phone in surprise. He gets out of bed and opens the door to the hallway, revealing Pez with their bright pink hair and uncharacteristically soft eyes.

“Alexander! How are you this fine Sunday morning?”

“Pretty good,” he says with a yawn, stepping to the side to let Pez in the room. “What’s up with you?”

“All extraordinary things, as usual,” they say with an easy smile. “Where’s our lovely Henry?”

“Taking a shower, he just got in. Do you need anything from him?”

“No, no, just wanted to drop these by.”

Alex only then notices the paper bag dangling in their hand, full of boxes of some sort of cookies. “Jabba Cakes?”

“Jaffa Cakes, Christ. You Americans are a disgrace of a colony. They’re Henry’s favorites and Bea sent them from London. She thought he would appreciate them, especially this week.”

Alex frowns. “Is something happening this week?”

Pez eyes him for a moment, studying him. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No.” Alex starts to get worried, his fingers fidgeting with his sleeves absentmindedly. “Pez, what’s happening this week?”

“Hey, relax. Take a deep breath.” Alex does, though it does little to ease his mind. “If he didn’t tell you, he probably doesn’t want to talk about it. He’ll tell you when he’s ready,” they say with a comforting smile.

Alex forces himself to nod and unclench his jaw. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“Always am, darling. Now, on a totally unrelated subject.” Pez’s expression now morphs into one of wicked interest.

“What?”

“Did you finally get your head out of your arse and kiss him?”

Alex freezes. Fuck, is he that obvious? “Uh. What do you mean?”

Pez raises an eyebrow and stares pointily at Alex’s chest. He looks down too, already knowing he’ll find Henry’s too big dark blue hoodie, going down to his mid-thigh. It’s comfy. So what if Alex stole it. “…Right.”

“Subtlety is not really your strong suit.”

“Never claimed it was,” he mumbles under his breath. “But yes. We did kiss, yesterday.”

“Finally,” Pez says, still watching him with a grin. Alex feels himself blush and holds the hoodie tighter around himself, smiling down at his hands.

“You’re not going to hurt him, are you?”

Alex snaps his head back up to Pez, who is now looking at him with a serious, no-nonsense face. “I— No, of course not! Why would you—”

“He’s my best mate, Alex. It’s kind of in the job description to guarantee he’s not setting himself up for a broken heart.”

Alex nods. He can understand that. “Oh.”

“Henry’s been through a lot. Life hasn’t always been very kind to him, and he still managed to become the person he is today, which is kind of a miracle in itself.” They sigh, and it comes out a little sad. “I would do anything for him, including making sure he’s not going to get hurt.”

Alex starts to smile. “You’re a good friend, Pez. I can see why he holds you on such high ground.” He clears his throat. “I don’t want to hurt him. He means so much to me. Breaking his heart would be breaking mine.”

His voice sounds softer than he wanted it to be, but it’s sincere, and he doesn’t look away from Pez’s inquiring gaze, standing his ground.

The silence stretches between them for a while, the only sound in the room being the water running in the bathroom. Finally, Pez smiles too, their face softening. “I believe you,” they say easily. “You’re good for him, Alex. I’m glad you two found each other.”

Alex breathes out shakily, honestly relieved. “Thanks. I’m happy about that too.”

Pez nods at him, obviously lost in their thoughts. Then they shake their head, showing Alex their signature grin. “Well, I only stopped by to leave the British goods, I must be on my way now. Give Haz my love for me, tell him to call if he needs anything, alright?”

“Will do,” Alex says honestly. He opens the door for Pez and waves them goodbye, playing their conversation in his head for a minute. He smiles; he’s truly glad Henry has a friend so protective of him as them.

He startles a little when the bathroom door opens and Henry comes out, fresh out of the shower, in soft sweats and still drying his hair with a towel. It falls on his forehead in wet, blonde strands. It’s incredibly endearing.

“You’re wearing my hoodie,” he says quietly, like to himself, eyes fixed on Alex’s chest.

“Oh, yeah. Is that okay?” Alex bites his lip nervously. “I was cold.”

Henry nods slowly, seemingly rendered speechless. “It’s perfectly okay,” he says after a minute, stepping closer and smiling down at him, holding him by the waist. “It looks good on you.”

Alex beams. “Thanks, sweetheart,” he says with a chaste kiss to Henry’s lips.

“Was someone over?” Henry asks once they’ve pulled apart, not moving away from him. “I thought I heard the door opening.”

“Right, yes. Pez dropped by to leave you posh British cookies.”

Henry perks up at that. “Jaffa Cakes?” he asks hopefully, only now noticing the paper bag on top of his bed.

Alex smirks. “So you do admit they’re posh, huh?”

Henry huffs out a laugh. “Not at all. I just know better than to argue with the future lawyer,” he says with a wink, already taking a box out of the bag. “And they’re biscuits, you demon. How did Pez find them in the States, anyway? I’ve been searching ever since we got here with no luck.”

“He didn’t, actually; Bea sent them as a surprise. She thought you might be missing them.”

He sees Henry smile softly down at the biscuits. “She was right.”

Alex takes Henry’s free hand and says quietly, tentatively, “Pez said she thought you’d especially appreciate them this week.”

Henry doesn’t freeze, exactly, but his shoulders tense up a little. “Ah. That— That was thoughtful of them.” He turns to look at Alex with a more careful expression. “Did Pez, er. Did they say anything? About this week?”

Alex squeezes his hand gently, swiping his thumb back and forth over his knuckles. “No. They said that you’d tell me, if you wanted to talk about it. Which you don’t have to, obviously. I just want to, y’know, remind you again that I’m here. For whatever you need. Whether that’s to talk or watch a movie or something else entirely, I’m always gonna be here.”

He pushes Henry’s hair away from his forehead; it’s still damp to the touch. Henry leans into his hand and closes his eyes, breathing slowly. They stay like that for a moment, in silence, until Henry opens his eyes again and sits down on the bed. He doesn’t let go of Alex’s hand, so he sits down next to him and holds his hand between his palms, giving Henry the time he needs.

When he breaks the silence, he does it in a small voice, looking down at their hands. “It’s my Dad’s birthday, this Friday. It’s the first one since…” he trails off, voice barely a whisper.

Alex feels his heart break a little inside his chest. “Oh, baby.” He wants to reach out and wrap his arms around him in a tight hug, but he doesn’t know if that’s welcome yet. He settles for squeezing Henry’s hands. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t want to worry you,” Henry murmurs and turns to look at him with watery eyes. He tries to smile, but it comes out wobbly and tremulous. “I wanted to, but then yesterday morning, we…” he hesitates again. “And it was good. I didn’t want to ruin anything.”

“Hen, you could never ruin this. You could have told me.” He reaches up to brush away a tear that slips out through the corner of Henry’s eye. “Can I hold you?”

Henry breathes out a shaky laugh. “You don’t have to ask,” he says, nudging Alex’s shoulder.

Alex scoots closer and envelopes him in a tight hug, letting Henry hide his face in his neck while he strokes his hair lovingly, like Henry is his most precious possession. “It’s okay, baby, you’re okay. Thank you for telling me,” he says over and over, placing light kisses on the top of his head.

He doesn’t know what he can do. He’s never been through anything quite like this, and he knows he can’t just erase all the pain Henry has inside of him. But maybe he can help in some way. Maybe just being here and listening and giving him time is enough for now.

He lets Henry stay like that with his face hidden between his neck and shoulder for however long he needs, until he lifts his head and looks up at Alex with blue eyes that look better now; the sadness is still there, lurking in the corners like it always is, but his gaze is calm and steady. He looks at Alex with something not unlike adoration in his eyes; it makes his heart stutter for a beat inside his ribcage.

“Hey. Will you tell me about him?”

Henry blinks. “…Sorry?”

“If you want to, of course. You’ve never said much about him before, and I didn’t want to pry. But he obviously meant a lot to you, and if you want to talk about him, I’m more than happy to listen.”

Henry’s eyes search his, and Alex doesn’t shy away. He just keeps running his fingers through soft blonde hair until Henry asks in a whisper, “You want that?”

Alex leans down and kisses Henry’s forehead in an achingly intimate gesture. “I would love that, H,” he says truthfully.

He sits on the bed with his back propped up against the headboard, bringing a box of Jaffa Cakes to the nightstand. Henry sits between his legs and rests against his chest, letting his head fall on Alex’s shoulder and turning his face to nose lightly at his neck.

Then he starts to talk, hesitantly at first and steadier by the minute.

He tells Alex about a man with blonde hair like his and deep brown eyes, a movie-star worthy grin and a heart of gold. Arthur, his name was. Someone who seemed like Superman in Henry’s eyes but was also just human, who wore mismatched socks simply because he felt like it and would sing along to the radio at the top of his lungs, making his mother and the whole family roar with laughter.

He talks about summer trips to Wales and long afternoons on the beach, sitting on his father’s shoulders at six-years-old as the sun hit his face and his brother and sister splashed them with water. He talks about late nights at the kitchen table as his mum explained Shakespeare and his dad helped with his math homework, endlessly patient and persistent until it all made sense to Henry.

They crack open the box of Jaffa Cakes and Henry tells Alex about the first time his father tried one when Henry was eight, after his mother’s continuous insistence, and how he instantly fell in love with them. Ever since that moment, there was always a box of those delectable biscuits in the house, hidden on the top shelf, stashed behind the tea, under the frying pans.

He smiles as he brings back the family nights, movie marathons and museum visits and board games on Christmas Eve; the quiet evenings where it was just Henry and Arthur, each on one end of the couch as they read the same book together, finishing Pride and Prejudice in three days; the early mornings where he’d come down to the kitchen to see his parents dancing by the counter as they waited for the kettle to heat, so absolutely in love that Henry couldn’t help but wish for something like that for himself – a love as pure and strong as his mother and father had.

Alex doesn't interrupt him; he just listens and holds Henry by the waist and smiles at his stories, pressing light kisses to his temple and the side of his head every now and then.

All too soon, Henry’s voice quiets as he tells Alex about the day of the diagnosis and the too short months that followed, how weeks turned into days and hours and an agonizing waiting that none of them could ignore anymore. How his father remained true to himself until the very end, calm smiles and reassuring words like life as they knew it wasn’t about to fade away much too quickly.

He remembers the terrible, helpless, painful waiting; and then the deafening quiet, the world suddenly dark and still, as if all the stars had burned out and the universe was unsure of how to proceed for a moment, scared to make the next move; Henry certainly was.

He says briefly, in a hushed whisper, how his sister scared him half to death when she lost her way, how his mother retreated into herself, lost in grief, and his family fell apart a little. His brother, now cold and distant, and his grandmother, harsh and cruel. The feeling in chest that told him he needed to get away, away, away from the pain and the too fresh memories and the prison his grandmother was already trying to build around him. How he said once, distractedly, that maybe he should just go to college across the ocean in New York, and his sister hugged and encouraged him and helped him pack his bags, that magical glint now back in her eyes after months of dark and hollow. Pez followed him without so much as a spare glance.

“I just— oh, God,” Henry whispers to the ceiling, and Alex feels the salty water hit his skin as it rolls down Henry’s cheeks in earnest. He only has to nudge his shoulder once before Henry turns in his arms and presses his face to Alex’s chest, hands weakly grasping his shirt as he wets the material.

Alex holds him tight and strokes his hair and whispers sweet nothings in his ear as Henry cries, releasing all the emotions and memories of the past, happiness and sorrow and grief. His whole body shakes with it as he clings to Alex’s body like a lifeline.

“You’re okay, baby,” he murmurs with lingering kisses to Henry’s hair. “Thank you for telling me. He sounds wonderful, Hen.”

“He was. God, he truly was,” Henry chokes out through a sob as his voice cracks, and Alex feels his heart break into a thousand pieces at the raw hurt Henry is feeling, tears prickling at his own eyes. He pushes them down; this isn’t about him. Henry needs him to be strong so he, for once, doesn’t have to.

So Alex only closes his eyes and squeezes him tighter, keeping up the flow of soft, comforting words that he hopes are welcome.

Slowly, Henry’s body subsides, still and quiet on top of Alex’s chest. He’s asleep, Alex is quick to notice. His brow is slightly furrowed but it smooths when Alex presses a gentle thumb to it, easing out the worried lines with a faint touch and a delicate kiss. Sweet Jesus, he likes him so much.

He lets him sleep; they wake up together in time for a very late lunch – Alex must have fallen asleep at some point too, though he has no memory of it – and the rest of the day is spent in a lighter tone, Alex startling out quick laughs out of Henry that make his eyes shine a little brighter, holding his hand as they head out for dinner at seven in the evening and not letting go even as they sit down at the diner, their fingers intertwined on the table between them. Henry keeps looking down at the sight and up at Alex’s face, an awfully soft small playing on his lips; Alex feels it mirrored on his face.

When they fall back under the covers that night, Henry cups his face and kisses him long and slow and deep, with a certainty that plucks something from Alex’s gut like a delicate flower, something to be cherished and cared for and loved. That’s how Henry makes him feel, every day; and what a dizzying thought that is.

“Thank you for today; all of it.” Henry’s voice is low and soft as his forehead rests against Alex’s, thumbs running back and forth on the skin of his cheekbones.

He nudges their noses together, making Henry giggle quietly. “Anytime, sweetheart. Anytime.”

* * *

Monday comes much too soon – far, far too soon.

Their routine doesn’t change much with their recent relationship development, not really; they still wake up slowly and reluctantly, and have breakfast together before parting ways at the door, Henry going left and Alex going right. Alex’s stomach still flutters every time he sees Henry’s sleep-mussed hair and when he finds him sitting at his desk or on his bed in the afternoon, focused on papers and assignments or absorbed in a book.

Except now they wake up with their bodies tangled together, sitting close through breakfast, and part at the door with a long kiss that takes both of their breaths away. Alex runs his fingers through Henry’s sleep-tousled hair and feels Henry’s short nails on his curls, gently scratching his scalp. He comes up to Henry’s desk and hugs his shoulders from behind and places a cup of Earl Grey by his side, feeling a grateful kiss on his cheek in response. He lays his head on Henry’s lap and asks him to real aloud to him, letting his smooth accent wash over him in gentle waves, hands huge as they cup his face and trace the freckles on his nose.

As the week drags on and Friday creeps closer and closer, Henry grows quieter.

He still smiles, but it’s an occasional, brief curl of his lips. He still works, but his fingers are unmoving on the keyboard of his laptop more often than not, a faraway look in his eyes. He gets out of bed, but it’s with slow movements, like it physically pains him, clinging to Alex for just a moment longer.

He kisses him, and it’s as good as it always is, but it’s slower; it’s the soft press of two closed mouths in a kiss that tastes of memories and feels like love; it’s Henry’s fingers on his hair like he needs it to ground himself; it’s soft exhales escaping through dry lips and hitting warm skin like a breeze of autumn – beautiful, but the leaves are already falling down to the ground.

Alex lets Henry take what he needs, holding him safely in his arms and reassuring him over and over again that you’re okay, that I’m not going to leave, that he can lean on Alex because he’s in this for the long haul.

Friday morning arrives, inevitably. Henry doesn’t get up.

Alex wakes up to find him curled up at his side, head resting on the cold pillow and hand an inch away from Alex’s; they must have drifted apart sometime during the night. Alex reaches out and gently takes it in his, lacing their fingers together and placing feather-light kisses to his knuckles.

Henry opens his eyes slowly, his gaze unfocused for a moment until it takes in their joined hands, and he squeezes a little. He shows Alex a weak smile that melts his insides.

“Morning, baby,” he says, cupping Henry’s face with his free hand. “How are you feeling?”

Henry only hums lowly in response, leaning slightly into the touch; it’s not really an answer, but Alex wasn’t expecting one anyway. He just stays there, swiping his thumb back and forth on Henry’s cheeks and kissing his hand from time to time.

When Henry speaks, he does it in an almost inaudible murmur. “You’re gonna be late for class.”

Alex takes another good look at him. He doesn’t seem very inclined to get up anytime soon; he’s already clutching the sheets tighter around himself and sinking back against the pillow, looking down at their hands with somber eyes.

Alex tucks a strand of blonde hair behind his ear. “I was thinking about skipping them today, actually. Nothing too important anyway.”

Henry looks up at him and hesitates for a moment. “You don’t have to,” he says finally, miserably, but doesn’t let go of his hand.

Alex shows him a small smile. “I know. And I can go, if you want to be alone right now. But if you don’t, I want… I want to be here for you.” He tilts Henry’s head up gently, so he doesn’t break eye contact. “You don’t have to go through this alone, Hen.”

Henry bites into his bottom lip, presumably to stop the tears pooling at his eyes from spilling. He shifts closer to Alex and grabs his sleeve in a weak grip, not meeting his eyes again. “Stay. Please.” His voice is so vulnerable that Alex moves without even realizing.

He pushes his hand into the back of Henry’s neck and guides him to tuck his head under Alex’s chin, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and another along his back, running up and down the ridges of his spine. He lets Henry cry softly into his chest as he kisses the top of his head over and over again, not saying anything, just hugging him close like he knows Henry likes.

And it does the trick; however slowly, Henry loosens the vise-like grasp on his waist and the tears stop falling down his face. He pulls back slightly and lets Alex brush away the tears on his cheeks, red-rimmed eyes that don’t look so stormy now.

“I just miss him so much,” Henry whispers quietly, voice hoarse.

“I know, baby,” Alex says, brushing his lips on Henry’s temple. “I know you do.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” Henry says a minute later, resting their foreheads together. Alex only smiles to himself and tightens his hold around him, thinking the same thing.

He convinces Henry to take a shower, assuring him it’ll make him feel better, and sets up Bake Off in his laptop, knowing Henry will appreciate something simple that doesn’t require much attention. He’s just finished answering Pez’s texts to let them know he’s spending the day with Henry and promising to call if they need anything when the bathroom door opens; Henry looks soft in dark blue sweats, smiling softly at Alex. His face isn’t so red and puffy as before, but he still looks unmistakably tired.

Alex pats down the bed next to him. “Come on. I already have your comfort show queued up.”

Henry sends him a grateful look and settles down half on top of him, head resting on his shoulder and fingers tracing random patterns near his collarbones. Alex presses play on his laptop and strokes Henry’s hair, gently massaging his scalp, occasionally dropping lingering kisses to his forehead.

Henry stays silent for most of the time, not completely focused on the British baking contest but not needing to talk either. He drifts in and out of sleep for a while, sighing quietly into Alex’s shoulder, unmoving on his body.

Lunch time comes around and Alex is trying to see if Henry is awake when he suddenly moves, sitting up on the bed right next to Alex’s hip. He seems to be thinking hard about something, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Hey.” Alex reaches out to take his hand. “What is it?”

Henry looks up at him slowly, and says, equally unhurried, “I want to call mum and Bea. I doubt Philip will want to talk to me, and I really don’t want to speak to Gran, but…” His lips tug up in a sad smile. “It’s Dad’s birthday. I want to talk to my family.”

Alex smiles encouragingly, squeezing his hand. “That’s wonderful, baby. I’m proud of you.”

Henry ducks his head shyly, but it doesn’t hide his pleased smile. “Thank you.” He grabs his phone to text his sister, looking a little more determined, and turns his computer on a minute later to open Skype.

Alex suddenly realizes maybe he should give them some privacy.

“Hey, what if I went to get us lunch while you talk to them? We should eat something.”

Henry immediately looks up with wide eyes. “You don’t have to leave.”

“No, I know.” He smiles reassuringly, cupping Henry’s face with one hand. “But this is something between the three of you; I don’t want to intrude. I can meet your family another time?” He means to say it firmly and reassuringly, but his voice wavers a bit and it comes out more like a question; he doesn’t want to assume anything.

His worries melt away as Henry kisses his open palm and says, “I would like that,” in an achingly tender voice.

Alex leaves the dorm with Henry sitting against the headboard as the call connects, hearing his soft accent breathe out the words “Hi, mum,” before he closes the door behind him with a small smile.

He leaves campus and walks to the nearest falafel stand, fully aware it’s Henry’s favorite and choosing it for that very reason – he walks away with more food than they can eat, but it doesn’t matter. Stopping again on his way back to get a cup of Earl Grey and one of those blueberry muffins Henry loves but rarely gets, he’s back in their room after half an hour gone. He hopes he doesn’t interrupt anything.

He opens the door and the first thing he sees is Henry still sitting on the bed, laptop closed in front of him and brushing away tears that keep falling down his face like steady rain; he’s crying again.

Alex crosses the room in a second, carelessly dropping the food and tea on the nearest flat surface – that happens to be Henry’s desk, but he’s not really paying attention – and cupping Henry’s jaw tenderly. “Hen, hey, sweetheart—”

“Alex,” Henry says, almost disbelieving.

“Yeah, baby, I’m here, you’re okay—”

“Alex,” Henry says again, a little louder this time, and Alex realizes with a startle that he’s laughing; he’s crying, yes, but it’s mixed with breathless laughter and a grin too big for his face. Alex is a little confused, but willing to go with it.

Henry doesn’t offer any more than that, just rests their foreheads together and clings to the nape of Alex’s neck as he keeps brushing his tears away, laughing and crying and smiling so beautifully. His body relents after a few minutes, leaving him breathing heavily with a small smile still plastered on his face.

“So,” Alex says then, tentatively, “I take it the call went well?”

Henry’s eyes shine. “It did. It went really well.”

He tells him about talking to Bea and his mum, how tired they both looked but also pleased to talk to him, asking about his life here and was he happy; how they talked about his dad in between laughs and tears and stories.

“It was just so good to be able to talk about him freely with them. We hadn’t done that since— since it happened, really.” He peers back at Alex with an almost dumbfounded expression.

“I’m glad, H, I am. How’s your mum, hm? You said you were worried about her.” Alex asks gently, running his fingertips through Henry’s blonde locks.

“Not too great, to be completely honest. Today isn’t easy for her.” Henry chews on his lower lip for a moment. “But I think she’s slowly getting better. She’s spending time with David, and Bea says she seems a little bit happier every day. And that she’s agreed to start looking for a therapist, which is really, really good.” He looks at Alex hopefully. “I think it’s gonna be okay.”

Alex smiles at him. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re all going to be just fine, baby.”

Henry flushes, a pretty sight, and nudges their noses together. “So,” he says. “I think you promised me lunch?”

Alex laughs. “That I did. A very late lunch, it seems. I got you falafel and also a blueberry muffin and tea, but it’s probably cold by now. Sorry about that.”

Henry doesn’t seem like he cares, already shaking his head. “I don’t care,” he confirms. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Alex just smiles and leans in to kiss Henry’s forehead once, twice before reaching for the bags of food. He’s stopped by Henry’s hand on his wrist.

“Can we, er. Can we go out, actually? Walk around campus for a bit?” He asks, a little shy. “I just want to leave the room for a while.”

“Yeah, sweetheart, of course we can.” He takes Henry’s hand and pulls him up from the bed, waiting for him to put his shoes on before grabbing the food and handing him the tea.

They make their way across the hallways hand in hand, talking quietly until they reach the small gardens at the back of the university’s campus. They sit on a bench to eat, because Alex refuses to let go of Henry’s hand and Henry doesn’t even try to protest.

The afternoon sun hits Henry’s face in soft light that makes him look ethereal, the most beautiful thing Alex has ever had the pleasure to see. He’s a bit quieter than usual today, but he’s still talking easily and laughing at Alex’s idiotic attempts at humor, the skin around his eyes cricking from smiling so much. It’s the best Alex has seen him all day, and the sight melts him from the inside.

“You’re stupidly pretty,” he says distractedly, uncensoring himself as Henry hands him half of the blueberry muffin, because he’s the kind of person that shares the treats Alex got for him. Alex is so into him.

Henry bites into his half of the muffin instead of responding, but Alex doesn’t miss the blush spreading down to his neck, the tips of his ears already bright red and the pleased smile he’s trying to hide; Alex grins, and digs into his half too.

Then they walk around for a while – could be minutes or hours or days, Alex will never know. He’s too focused on Henry’s calm face and the feeling of their intertwined hands between them, thumbs gently tracing over knuckles. He’s hearing his smooth voice as he tells Alex about Bea and her latest music project, how thrilled she sounded about her next gig.

“Dad was always her biggest supporter. I hadn’t heard her talk about music this happily in months,” he says excitedly, beaming at Alex. He can’t help but grin back.

Henry’s pace stutters faintly, slowing to a stop by a huge Linden tree. He pulls Alex by the hand to stand by its shade, making it seem like they’re in their own little world, and turns his body to fully face Alex. His expression looks soft and somewhat serious.

“Thank you for everything you did today.”

Alex frowns a little. “I told you babe, it’s okay—”

“No.” Henry’s voice is surprisingly firm when he interrupts him, but his eyes are as gentle as ever. “Just— let me say this. Please? I want to say this.”

Alex nods, speechless. Henry squeezes his hand.

“Thank you for today. You knew everything I needed before I even did, and you were there for me for every moment of it. You skipped class and let me cry into your shirt and brought me lunch and held my hand the entire time – still are, actually. You listened to me when I talked and filled in the silence when I needed it. And now I need you to not brush me off and let me thank you. Because it really means a lot to me, love.”

Alex shrugs slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “This isn’t about me.”

Henry smiles back, bringing one of his hands up to Alex’s curls. “I know. But maybe I want it to be, just a little.” He clears his throat, shifting briefly from one foot to the other. “I never got to tell my dad about me. Before I knew it, he was sick, and suddenly telling him I’m gay didn’t seem as important as just spending time with him.”

He pauses for a moment, clearing his throat again and looking down at their joined hands. Alex runs steady fingertips on his wrist over his pulse point where Henry’s other hand still rests on Alex’s hair, giving him time until he speaks again.

“For months after he died, I regretted that decision. I kept thinking and wondering, what if he didn’t accept me, what if he’d been disappointed in me, what if he didn’t care, what if?” He looks up at Alex again with watery eyes, but he’s smiling so wide. “But then I met you, and I knew. I knew my dad would have loved you if you had ever had a chance to meet. And I don’t wonder anymore.”

Alex is astonished, amazed; he doesn’t know what to say to that.

He touches Henry’s face with a special kind of reverence, tangling his fingers into the golden hair and pushing it away from his forehead. “He would be so proud of you, baby,” he says truthfully, a little choked up. “So proud of everything you’ve become.”

He brushes away the first tear that falls from Henry’s eye and gets immediately pulled into a deep, toe-curling kiss. Henry cups the back of his neck with one gentle hand and wraps the other around his waist, tugging him closer to his body until there’s absolutely nothing between them, no space for Alex to move in; not that he even wants it.

It’s better than anything he’s ever felt before. He holds Henry’s face between his hands and opens his mouth under him but does nothing to heat up or hurry the kiss, letting Henry set the pace, and it’s everything. It’s slow and intense, with just the right amount of tongue to keep it sweet and the barest hint of teeth to make it them.

Henry kisses him like he wants to keep him, and Alex positively melts at the thought, instantly one hundred percent on-board.

He has no idea how he got here; how did he go from starting college thinking he was straight to meeting Henry and living in the same room as him, getting to know him and sharing himself in return, holding him through his dark nights and letting Henry comfort him on his bad days.

Here, kissing Henry like he never wants to do anything else for the rest of his life.

Who knows? Maybe he can get Henry to agree to forever.

One week later.

“After you.”

“Why do you always have to be such a fucking gentleman—”

Henry laughs and nudges him into the restaurant, falling into step behind Alex when he tugs at his hand.

They sit face to face in the furthest corner of a good Italian restaurant, dressed fancy for the occasion – or as fancy as two college students can be, which means ironed button-down shirts and nice blazers that bring out the color of their eyes.

Henry looks soft in the candlelight, and Alex smiles as he thinks back to the conversation they had in their room a few days ago that got them here.

“I want to go on a date.”

Henry had choked slightly on his tea and had barely managed to keep the book in his hand intact. “Sorry?”

Alex had grinned. “You know, a date. Specifically, a first date. We haven’t gone on one of those yet. I wanna take my nice boyfriend out for a proper date.”

“Boyfriend,” Henry had said slowly, tasting the word in his mouth, rolling it on his tongue and smiling to himself. “I like that. Okay; let’s go on a date.”

Alex had sealed it with a kiss like a promise.

So here they are, on their first official date, and Alex is already planning the many more that will come after. He looks at Henry’s face, his broad shoulders, the ease with which he smiles at Alex like they’re the only ones here. Alex is head over heels. He never stood a chance, really.

Which reminds him…

“Hey, baby?”

“Yes, love?” They both blush at the pet names; Alex never wants it to stop.

“So, you know I love you, right? I don't know if I said it already, but you should know that. Because I really do.”

Henry gulps. “I… may have had my theories,” he says with a small smile. “But it's nice to hear it from you. You know I'm hopelessly in love with you, yes?”

Alex lets the grin stretch on his face, something in his chest releasing. “The thought had crossed my mind.”

Henry takes his hand across the table and leans down to kiss it, never breaking eye contact. Alex breathes in deeply; Henry is going to kill him.

Before he can open his mouth to say something – incredibly sappy, no doubt, – a waiter approaches their table, sporting a professional smile and with a notepad in hand. “Good evening, I’m Jane and I’ll be your server for tonight. Are you ready to order?”

Alex glances at Henry, and they squeeze each other’s hands at the same time. They’re ready.