Archive of Our Own

Alex and Henry met in their first year of university.  

Alex, studying political and social science.  Henry, doing a double degree in literature and international affairs.  They got assigned the same dorm room. Henry walked in a day late (his flight was delayed and then his luggage got lost), and the first thing his blue eyes flew to was Alex doing one armed pushups in the space between their beds.  Alex glanced up, arm shaking a little, and fixed Henry with what he hoped was a friendly grin.

The second thing Henry seemed to notice was Alex’s side of the room, already completely decked out in paraphernalia.  He watched as Henry’s eyes grazed over his posters of bands, his bulletin board crowded with photos, and the three flags he pinned above his bed.  Their university flag, the Mexican flag and…

“Is that the bisexual flag?” Henry asked, carefully hostile.  He’ll later explain to Alex, he hadn’t meant it to sound so at all.  He just wasn't used to being around other people; other people like him. And being able to make it known that he was also like them. He had expected different moving away from his family, and the expectations they had set for him.  He just hadn't been expecting to walk into his dorm room and for it to smack him in the face.

“Yeah,” Alex said, standing up.  He raised an eyebrow at Henry, already on the defensive.  “Is that a problem.”  It wasn't really a question, because Alex was about ready to make it a problem if necessary.

Henry seemed to fumble, stammered something and shook his head.  “No!  God no!” 

Alex was about to call him out for being an over-sensitive prick who sounded like he was trying way too hard to make it seem like it wasn’t a problem, but instead he watched Henry dig through his bag and drag out an oversaturated rainbow flag and hold it up to Alex proudly, sheepish smile on his lips.

Alex’s face shifted back into what Henry came to know as his famous grin.

“Welcome to the pack!” Alex clapped him on the shoulder and dragged Henry further into the room.

They’ve been inseparable ever since.

Once.

The kind of friendship Henry has with Alex is the kind there’s no one word for.  It’s cataclysmic, a natural disaster waiting to happen, and simultaneously the work of miracles.  What they have in common outweighs what they don’t, but even what they don’t have in common they find solace in sharing with the other.  Henry is immediately introduced to Alex’s sister, June, their mutual best friend Nora and adopted by the trio, no questions asked. He wakes up every day to a stream of texts in their group chat about Nora’s missing converses or should June get a dog.  

They move through their courses almost in sync, despite taking completely different classes.  They study together, break down together, pick each other up together.  Alex takes Henry out to his dad’s lake house where they skinny dip at midnight and sing loudly and off-key around the campfire.

Henry takes Alex back to England and is dragged around like a tourist.  Alex meets Pez and Henry’s sister, Bea.  Both become honorary members of their group even from an ocean away.

The only thing they can’t seem to agree on is dating.  As in, Henry doesn’t.  Alex saw him go on a few dates his first weeks in the States, watched him hook up with a few guys at a few frat parties.  Then…nothing.  It’s like he suddenly took a celibacy oath.

“I can’t afford to be distracted.  I am here on a scholarship, which depends on my grades first and foremost,” Henry had explained.  

Alex admires Henry’s resolve, and is more than happy to deter any interested parties away for Henry’s sake.

Now they’re in their third year together.  They moved out of the dorm rooms as soon as they could, to a little apartment thirty minutes from campus.  Just far enough away for it to be affordable but not too far away so it’s more than one bus.  It’s big enough to hold a few good parties a year, but not so small it’s crowded with both of them living in it.  They're an equal distance walk between a cafe that makes excellent coffee and a 24-hour convenience store.

Their respective pride flags hang on the wall above the TV.

It’s the last night of Christmas break.  Some would say this is the perfect time to unwind from holiday mode and begin to get ready for the coming semester.  ‘Some’ are not Alex.  He insists they go out, throws one of Henry’s more flamboyant shirts at him, and drags him out the door.  They meet Nora and June at the club.  A gay bar with the neon sign flashing Beat It above their heads as the bouncer let’s them inside.  

It’s packed and thriving and Alex is bouncing on the balls of his feet.

They drink.  They dance.  They drink more.  Alex is regretting wearing his loafers and not something with a bit more arch support.  He hisses, looking at the blister forming on his heel when Nora and June come tumbling into him, both full of drunken laughter and finding it hard to form a complete sentence between them.

“Oh my god!  Where’s Henry?” June is gasping for air, words barely audible, even without the loud, booming music.  “We have to tell you guys what we saw in the bathroom!” 

Alex cranes his neck to see over bouncing heads, trying to locate his friend.  He finally spies the familiar head of golden tresses (and the alarmingly flashy shirt Alex made Henry wear) on the other side of the bar.  He’s talking to someone.  Someone who’s leaning in way too close.  Alex can see the tension in Henry’s shoulders, the way he leans back, trying to ease himself out of the conversation.

“Hold up!  Gotta run rescue!” Alex screams to the girls before making his way through the bar crowd towards Henry.  Henry is definitely in trouble, if the tightly drawn way his eyebrows knit together is anything to go by, but he’s always been too polite to stand his ground and tell someone ‘no’ more than once.

Alex has no such manners.

“Hey!” He inserts himself into the conversation.  He lays a hand on Henry’s shoulder, who immediately sags with relief under his hand. 

The man who had been hitting on Henry is shorter than them both, kind of scruffy looking, and wearing pants so tight that they leave nothing to the imagination.  Unfortunately.  Alex can say confidently he’s not even Henry’s type, even if he had been interested.  “Thanks for your interest in my boy, but we do not regret to inform you that the position of my boy’s boy has been filled.” 

Too-Tights Man gives Alex a look of surprise, the smarmy look on his face wiped clean off.  He pushes off the bar and takes a few steps back.

“Hey, sorry man!  Didn’t realise he had a boyfriend!”

Henry stiffens under Alex’s hand.  Alex laughs.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” he corrects.  “He’s just not interested.”

Too-Tights Man looks between them, opening his mouth to say something, but Alex doesn’t give him the chance.

“Let’s go, sweetheart!” Alex steers Henry away and back toward their corner of the bar with June and Nora.  They’re still giggling at whatever it is they discovered in the women’s room.  Alex shakes his head, exasperated, but waits for them to calm down.  It takes a moment and with the added bottle of champagne Nora is sharing between them, it seems like it’s going to take a moment longer.

Henry leans into Alex’s side while they wait.

“Thank you,” he says simply in Alex’s ear.  Alex shivers, the contrast between Henry’s warm breath and the cranked up AC of the club getting to him.

He turns toward Henry.  “Any time.”

Twice.

February 14th comes and Alex is loathe to be single.  The semester has been kicking his ass, leaving him no time to search for a date.  He couldn’t even fall back on Nora, who was away with her grandparents, probably saving a troubled nation from an economic crisis.  He realises it borders on tacky to be upset about how single you are on Valentine’s day, but he’s a sucker for love, and not even having a crush to flirt with this time of year is leaving him feeling downer than he intended.

Henry, however, seems to be in his element.

“Don’t think of it as Valentine’s day then,” Henry reasons, unusually cheerful for someone who chooses to remain single.  Alex’s frown hasn’t left his brow since he was dragged out of their apartment and into their favourite cafe.  He makes a show of staring hard at the board while they wait in line, even though they frequent here enough to have the menu memorised.  “Think of it as any other Tuesday.”

“Sad, single people say shit like that,” Alex grumbles.

“You are single and, from your expression, I can deduce you are sad.”

Alex groans and leers his frown at Henry.  “I still don’t know how you do it.”

They shuffle up in line.  “Do what?”

“Not date.  I’m all for inner-peace and the like, but you don’t even like guys hitting on you at bars.  The soccer team’s captain pretty much begged to take you out.”  Henry rolls his eyes while Alex continues to prattle on.  “I get why you don’t wanna date, but I don’t get how you can’t even want to find love.”

“I never said I didn’t want to find love.”

Before Alex can reply to that, pin Henry down and question exactly what he means, the chalkboard by the counter catches his eye.  Someone (probably one of the art students trapped behind the counter while they fund their expensive hobby and their degree) has decorated the sign in fancy writing and cartoon interpretations of two muffins in love.  What’s really interesting is the deal it advertisers in cursive, pink writing.

“Oh my god, Henry look!” Alex almost knocks Henry over as he thrusts his finger toward the sign.  “They’ve got a deal for couples!”

Henry glances at the sign, snickering at the drawing.

“Alex,” he starts.

“Be my boyfriend!”

Henry’s words are completely sucked out of his mouth.  “I beg your pardon?” Comes out instead, low and raspy.  His face turns red again with the heaters pumping warmth into the cafe.

“Be my boyfriend!  So we can get the free muffin!” Alex doesn’t wait for an answer, but takes Henry’s arm and cuddles against him, even going so far as to slot his chin over Henry’s shoulder, which is a lot of work considering Henry is almost a head taller than him.  Henry stiffens, and Alex jabs him in the sides.  “C’mon!  At least act like I don’t repulse you!”

Henry doesn’t have time to argue as it’s their turn next.  Henry turns bright red with embarrassment while Alex orders for them, making a show of nuzzling the side of Henry’s neck and letting sweetheart slip out quietly enough it should sound like it’s a secret but loud enough for the barista to catch.  He might be laying it on a bit thick, but thick must work for him as the barista calls them a cute couple, and hands them their free muffin.

Alex cackles quietly as they head to find seats while their drinks are being made.

Henry is still bright red.

“You make a terrible boyfriend,” Alex comments, but tears the muffin in half anyway.  Henry blinks at him.  “Either you’re not a cuddles type, or you’re not an Alex type.”

Henry turns impossibly redder.

“You just surprised me!” He practically whines.

There’s a flurry of brown hair, a beige coat and a stack of files as tall as themselves when June finally joins them.  She apologises in a panic, kissing them both on the cheek.

“I’m sorry I’m late!  It was a mad house at the paper and then this other intern bummed all his weekend files off on me like I don’t have my own to go through!  I’m going to need like five drinks to get through them, then five more to get through my own.”

Alex looks at her sympathetically.  “Go get a free muffin!  Do you need Henry to be your boyfriend? Fair warning, he sucks at it.”

Henry nudges Alex’s boot under the table with his own.  Alex nudges him back.

June is busy studying the sign Alex was referring too.

“I definitely want the free muffin but why would I need Henry to be my boyfriend?”

“It’s for couples.”

June fixes him with an unreadable stare before bursting into giggles.  Alex tries not to pout.

“What about thanking your little brother for the tip, huh?”

“Alex!  You moron!” June straightens herself as her giggles trail off but don’t die down entirely.  “It’s not for couples!  How would they even police that?”

It’s Alex’s turn to stare wildly at her.  Henry has his face turned away, his mouth hidden behind a gloved hand, but his shoulders are shaking.

June fights the urge to laugh at her brother again.  “It’s a Valentine’s day promotion.  You just have to buy two drinks! It says nothing about being for couples only.”

Alex twists around her to peer at the sign again, mouth falling open as he rereads the sign more thoroughly, mortified to see she’s correct.

“Really, Alex.  If you wanted to take me out, you can just ask, love, ” Henry purrs, before falling into hysterics with June.  Alex really does pout, taking Henry’s half of the muffin for himself.

Thrice.

Half way through the semester, and Alex and Henry are on a plane to England.  

It’s Henry’s brother's birthday and instead of having a nice family dinner or a garden party, and inviting Henry via Zoom like he normally does, he’s throwing an entire gala.  Henry moaned when he got the invitation, whining that he just saw Phillip at Christmas and why does he have to see him again so soon.  Like a true friend, Alex laughed at Henry’s pain.  Then, as an even better friend, offered to come.

Henry looked at Alex, blue eyes wide with barely concealed hope.  “You’d really come to this boring affair with me?  You’d really save me like that?”

Alex shrugged.  “Free booze.”

The gala isn’t terrible, Alex reasons.  It could be worse.  They might actually have to make nice with Phillip for longer than their anointed twenty minutes, but Phillip seems to be too busy keeping up appearances with literally everyone else.  All the more, their preferences amongst the social circle always seems to be the topic of conversation that’s brought up first, rather than ‘how is university going’ or ‘how’s the polo team’ or literally.  Anything.  Else.  No one can seem to look them in the eye either, or they ask extremely inappropriate questions under the guise of being 'supportive yet curious'.  The kind of ‘supportive yet curious’ questions that come from being the only queer people in a room full of people who have never met one before.

They both find it far more enjoyable to isolate themselves to a corner of the room where they take turns going to the bar to bring back drinks and trays of tiny appetisers.

Alex is returning from his turn at the bar, when he catches Henry looking somberly into his champagne glass.  He swirls the golden liquid around the bottom, but doesn’t seem to be seeing it, almost like by doing so he’s hypnotised himself.

“Hey, you good?” Alex asks.  Henry looks up, almost shocked to see Alex there, and forces the smile back onto his face.

“Of course!”

Alex hands Henry his new drink.  “You can tell me if you’re not.”

Henry sighs, seeming to crack a little, like he always does when it comes to his family.  Alex hates seeing Henry like this.  So weighed down by expectations he can never hope to meet.  Expectations he doesn’t want to meet, and has made peace never reaching for, but will always feel guilty about anyway.

Henry says he’s unbothered by his family and their very snide and not-so-subtle remarks about him never giving them grandchildren.  Or the offhand jokes, that are definitely not jokes at all, about Henry disgracing the family name.  But Alex knows.  Alex knows every time Henry has to visit, or take a phone call, it’s like he retreats inside himself.  He never had a safe space growing up, so found a safe space inside himself, but it does horrible things to his eyes and his demeanour and his posture.  Alex hates seeing it, but knows there’s not a whole lot he can do to help, besides being someone Henry can come home to when he feels ready to find that safety beside someone he trusts.

“I just feel terrible,” Henry starts, but seems to be having trouble continuing that train of thought.

“I told you those prawn cocktails looked off,” Alex says, giving Henry a shove with his shoulder.  Henry doesn’t move, or lean into the touch.  Classic signs of Henry getting ready to retreat.

“It’s not that,” he says, which Alex knew, but for once keeps his mouth shut about being right.  “I feel terrible for bringing you.”

“Hey!  I’m not that bad of a date!”

Henry looks to Alex, horrified.  “That’s not what I meant either!  God, Alex, I’m so sorry!”

Alex holds up his hands in surrender.  “Chill!  I know!  I’m joking.”

Henry groans again.  Alex gives up on fixing this with humour and settles for good ol’ fashioned communication.

“Is it Phillip and his ‘aversion’ to our ‘lifestyle choices’? ”   At least Phillip always gives him a fantastic excuse to use way too many air quotes.

Henry waves his glass at the room.  “It’s the whole lot of them!  I didn’t bring you here to make you feel bad about your sexuality, and I knew you wouldn’t be affected, because you’re a saint.  Doesn’t mean it’s not totally unfair they feel they can say all those things, and get away with it because they’ve inherited three estates up in Essex.”

Alex shrugs.  “You’re forgetting I come from Texas.  It’s kind of, like, the mothership for people like that.”

“It still doesn’t make it okay.”

Alex can see Henry’s eyes, the flash of something defiant in them.  It’s always there, amongst the anxiety and depression, and it gets larger every time.  Alex is waiting for the day it shines as bright as he knows Henry can, if given permission, if given even half of a chance.

“I think you need to take your mind off this,” Alex says, taking the champagne out of Henry’s hand and placing their glasses on a nearby table.  “Wanna dance?”

For a moment, Henry looks stunned.  Like dancing together, two guys, in front of an entire party of people who have been making it a point to judge them for something they might do all night (something like dance together in front of them), is the worst suggestion ever.  What a stupid suggestion.  What a very Alex suggestion.

Henry laughs, eyes bright, that defiance burning brighter.  He takes Alex’s hand and lets himself be led to the dance floor.  Alex has his hand around Henry’s waist, their other hands clutched together, and Alex begins to sway them to the sound of the orchestra, until Alex very abruptly remembers he doesn’t know how to dance like this.  He stumbles and trips and it makes Henry laugh harder.  At least Alex is playing the role of distraction very well.

“Let me lead!” Henry commands.  It’s his turn to take Alex’s waist, yanking him closer, and uses his weight to lead Alex in a simple four step waltz.  At least Alex is a fast learner, and falls in time with Henry’s steps after only a few rounds.

Henry is glowing under the light of the chandelier, a little pink from all the champagne, but smile spread across his face as he gazes at Alex.  Alex smiles too, so glad to see the Henry he knows and cherishes rising back to the surface, and grateful he hadn’t sunken too far.  

The music slows, as do their steps, and the mood lightens.  Alex presses his forehead to Henry’s, in a gesture that has become awfully familiar between them.

“Hey,” Alex calls softly.  Henry seems to lean further into him.

“Hey yourself.”

The song finishes and they separate, carefully, slowly, peeling back from each other at their own pace.  Alex suggests hiding in the gardens until it’s socially acceptable to say good night, when they can reappear like they’d been present the whole time.  Henry gladly agrees.  Their hands stay wound tight together as they make their way to the door.

“Good for you!” Someone calls to them.  He’s burly, red faced, clearly drunk.  “I can say I’m honestly shocked!  It’s so good of Phillip to approve of you two!  Good for you!”

Alex has to stifle his laugh with his free hand.  Henry shoves him.

“Thank you, Sir Fitzpatrick,” Henry says, nodding politely.  They move to leave, to let the comment slide and roll off their backs, their good mood not defeated so easily.

“So good of Phillip to approve of someone like him.  Fantastic!”

Henry freezes, his expression freezing over.  Alex begins to tell him to let it go, that he’s not offended, that it doesn't matter.  Except it does, and Henry has found the thing that will finally crack him open.  Except it’s nothing soft or broken that lays inside like they thought, but something that can no longer be shaped to whatever glass sculpture they’d hope Henry would fit.

Henry rounds on Fitzpatrick, eyes blazing, fists clenched and knuckles white in anger.  “What exactly do you mean ‘someone like him’?” Henry demands.

Fitzpatrick seems to be taken aback.  He mumbles, words unintelligible, champagne making a mockery of his already mockable excuse.  “Oh, just.  You know…”

Henry isn’t letting it slide.  “No.  I don’t know.  Enlighten me.  Why would ‘someone like him’ not be good enough?  Is it because he’s not an Earl?  Or a Lord?  Or owns a company in Birmingham that runs on the souls of overworked, underpaid staff?  Is it because he’s American?  Is it because he’s brown? ”

A few other heads have turned.  Some bewildered.  Some disapproving.  Alex tugs on Henry’s hand.

“Henry, it’s fine!” He pleads.

“It bloody well isn’t!” And Henry turns back to Fitzpatrick.  “You can make your snide comments about me and my sexuality and my life just fine, but I’m sick of you touching him!  All you dignitaries talk about charity and nobility, but there’s nothing noble or charitable about you.  The first time someone even remotely different shows up in your social circle, someone you can’t possibly best because they’re better than you in ways you can’t play at, you all seem to have a collective coronary and go for the knees.”

Alex is pretty sure he’s never heard Henry say so much at once in front of his family or his family’s friends.  He’d be worried about the trouble this might get him in, if he wasn’t busy being so proud of him.

Phillip chooses that moment to show up, attempting to run damage control before things get out of hand, but Henry ploughs right over him.  Which Alex is still very proud of him for.

“Happy birthday, Phillip, but I’m absolutely fucking done.  Next time, if you don’t want me to make a spectacle of myself, maybe don’t talk about me like I am one.  Surely your lives aren’t so boring that you can’t possibly find something else to gossip about other than which gender I’m fucking. ”

Henry doesn’t wait for Fitzpatrick, Phillip, or anyone to pick their jaws off the floor before he’s storming out of the ball room, social acceptability out the window, and dragging Alex with him.  Alex barely keeps pace, Henry’s legs are so much longer than his, and is panting when Henry finally stops in the foyer of the hotel.  It’s nothing compared to Henry, whose chest is heaving like he’s treading water, eyes wild, and Alex can see the incoming panic attack taking the place of where his courage once was.

Their hands are still clutched together, and Alex takes over the job of getting them the hell out of there.  He pulls Henry past the front desk and slips down a hallway, through a door marked ‘pool’ and is grateful to find it’s completely empty.  It reeks of chlorine, but it’s also quiet and dim, the only source of light coming from the pool itself so it sends enchanting impressions of water dancing on every surface.  Alex pushes Henry so he’s sitting down on a pool chair, taking the place beside him so their bodies are pressed together and Henry has something real to ground himself against.

He wraps an arm around Henry’s shoulders, and pushes his face into the crook of his neck.

“Breathe,” Alex orders, soft and quiet, his voice full of reassurance and the safety Henry needs.  “Just breathe.  In.  Out.  In.  Out.  There ya go.”

Alex continues to stroke Henry’s back, letting Henry clutch at his jacket, until his breathing evens out and his shaking ceases.  It’s quiet.  Alex is beginning to hear their heartbeats thundering in their chests and echoing off the pool walls.  He doesn’t separate from his friend.

Alex is always happy to help with Henry’s panic attacks, to offer him anything from a distraction in the form of Mario Kart, soft words or just companionship while they wait for it to be over, but it’s always a toss up whether it’ll subside at all.  Sometimes Henry can’t help but sink back inside himself so far he’s lost for days, and Alex can only offer a smile and constant mugs of tea while Henry works his way through it.

Thankfully, Henry seems to be coming back to himself faster this time, picking his head up off Alex’s shoulder and shoving a few stray tears away.  “That was…” 

Alex has a feeling he’s about to say something like ‘stupid’ or ‘rude’ or ‘uncalled for’, so Alex beats him to it. 

“Awesome!” Alex shouts, voice echoing off the water.  Henry looks at him, blue eyes wide, pink lips agape.  

And he breaks into laughter. He tries to keep it quiet (it's tentative whether they're even allowed in here at night) but he wasted so much energy fighting his panic attack, the only place for his laughter to go is out and loud. 

"It was rather… invigorating," Henry manages to rasp through his giggles. Alex grins at his friend, the laughter infectious. "Phillip is going to have my head for this." 

Alex reaches up to ruffle Henry's hair. Henry bat's his hand away. 

"Nah, your head is too pretty for that," Alex says casually. The heat of the room seems to turn Henry's face bright red. "It'd be a waste." 

It's quiet between them again. Alex can feel Henry gathering his thoughts. 

"Thank you. For everything." 

"Hey, that was all you." 

"But I never would have had the courage to do something like that without you." 

Henry is looking at Alex like he's seeing entire constellations; something spectacular and permanent and not to be touched. Alex grins. 

"What are best friends for? You know I'll always have your back." 

As if to prove his point, he loops his arm around Henry's shoulders and squeezes their bodies closer together. 

The Fourth Time.

Her name is Janie and she’s cute and spunky and can handle Alex when he gets into one of his overly passionate rants on voter suppression.  They met outside of his class, Alex having sprinted around the corner too fast to see her, causing her to drop her mountain of books and papers.  He’d been really late too, but had still stayed to help her collect her things, and ask for her number with the promise of buying her coffee to make up for it.

They’ve been flirting back and forth for a week.  Alex will send her embarrassing mirror selfies while brushing his teeth, hair still mussed from sleep, coincidentally shirtless, despite the still frosty mornings.  She’ll send back jokes and photos of her dog and her own embarrassing selfies while she’s in the library, hair in a messy bun and drowning in text books.

It’s so easy, and Alex is giddy with the anticipation of finally asking her on an official date.

They’re busy discussing which is the best Star Wars film (she has a thing for the newer ones, but Alex thinks he can look past that), messages flying back and forth while Alex is sprawled across the couch.  His American history paper is also sprawled around him, but he’s otherwise too preoccupied to care about its looming due date.

The apartment door slams open, boots stomping through the entrance hallway and into the living area, Henry grunting in frustration as he rips off his shoes.  He lets out something of a growl as he flops against the end of the couch.  His hands are in his hair and Alex has never seen Henry so deconstructed.

“Woa, you good?” Alex asks, texts to Janie momentarily forgotten.

Henry lets out a very long, very loud sigh through his nose, but ultimately remains quiet.

“Is it family shit?” Alex tries again.

“For once, no,” Henry gives.  “At least not entirely.  Lazy group members, guidance counsellor meetings, and I think my professor is hitting on me.  Plus Phillip.”

Alex whistles.  “Do you need a hug?”

Henry shakes his head, looking pained as he forces the scowl from his face.  It doesn’t stop Alex from putting his phone away and shuffling closer on the couch.  There’s a lot of Henry to hug, so Alex uses his arms and legs like he’s seen koalas do.  Henry grunts, but his chest shakes with suppressed laughter.  Alex can feel Henry lightening in his arms.

“Thank you, Alex.  I appreciate it,” Henry says, carding a hand through Alex’s curls like he has a thousand times before.  When Alex falls asleep on his lap on the couch or puts his head down on the desk during a particularly frustrating assignment.  It’s just as comforting and familiar as Alex’s hugs are to Henry.

Alex tips his head up so he can look at the strong angle of Henry’s jaw.  “Movie night?”

Henry peers down at him.  “Please!”

Henry trots off to shower and change and line up their movie selection while Alex jogs down to the convenience store on the corner for terrible microwave pizza slices and their weight in chips and soda.  Or crisps and pop, as Henry will still call them.

He comes back, arms heavy with bags of food, and Henry already looks far more relaxed.  He’s in an old sports jersey and boxers, hair wet and cheeks still pink from the shower.  Alex looks at the TV.

“Titanic?  Again?”

“You said it was my choice! You don’t get to complain!”

“Yeah, but I thought you were gonna go for something cool!  Like John Wick!”

Henry takes a bag from Alex and digs out the cans of Dr. Pepper.  “Titanic is cool!”

“I don’t see Leo getting naked for the camera,” Alex mutters.  Despite his whining, Alex genuinely does appreciate a good love story, so takes his place next to Henry and saddles up to hold Henry when he inevitably breaks down crying during the last twenty minutes.  Then a thought occurs.  “Wait, wait!  I gotta send this to Janie!”

Henry rolls his eyes but dutifully lets Alex pose them in the camera’s frame.  Alex spends some time fixing his hair and aligning his shirt, figuring out the best angle.  Then Alex pulls Henry close, arm firm around his waist, and Henry slides closer so their faces are pressed together.  Alex counts down from three, and Henry turns his face at the last minute to lick a strip up Alex’s cheek.  The picture captures Alex’s laughter and Henry’s mischievous look.  

“Jokes on you!  You made me look even better!” Alex says proudly while he types out a caption for Janie.  

Movie night with my favourite person.

The whooshing noise of the message being delivered sounds.  Alex puts his phone away and turns his attention back to Henry.

Messages from Janie turn sparse.  What had been a constant chain of messages and quips and gym selfies have turned to polite how’s your day been? Followed by one worded answers.  Alex can’t pinpoint where it went wrong.  

“It’s simple.  She finally figured out you’re a two for one deal and didn’t want the added baggage,” Nora comments, having scanned Alex’s messages for only a few moments.  “The messages drop off after that photo with you and Henry.”

Alex scoffs.  “This is because of Henry?! ”

Henry, at least, looks partially guilty, even as he tries to hide his face behind his laptop.

“We’re friends!” Alex says, like he needs to make it known.  

Nora looks amused.  “I know, so you’ve insisted before.  Why don’t you go tell her that?”

Nora gestures with her jaw over Alex’s shoulder.  He and Henry swivel in their chairs.  Alex spots Janie joining a study group over on the other side of the library.  Alex is suddenly filled with frustration, as opposed to the dashed hope that had been slowly filling his stomach the past few days. He doesn’t hesitate, almost kicking his chair over as he launches himself out of it and strides across the room.

“Can we talk?” 

Janie looks surprised to see him, her friends darting curious glances back and forth between them.  She presses her lips together before giving a tight nod and following him into an aisle of books.

“Look, I’m sorry I’ve been a bit distant.  I’ve just been busy,” she immediately starts with excuses.

Alex tries not to look angry, and fights the urge to remind her she didn’t seem to have a problem texting him last week when they were both just as busy.  Hell.  They were probably even busier.

“Can we just cut to the chase?  Is this because of Henry?”

She looks taken aback, and Alex might think Nora had read it all wrong for once, if it weren’t for her floundering words and darting eyes, her’s no longer able to meet his.  Alex begins to groan, and then remembers this is a library, and doesn’t want to get them kicked out, so he lets out a harsh breath of air instead.

“I’m sorry if I mislead you, but you mislead me too!”

“What does that mean?”

“You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend!  I won’t judge if you two are open, but I’m solidly monogamous!  I just didn’t know how to tell you I’m not into being part of a love triangle.”

Alex carefully takes in her words, before a smile cracks his face almost in two at the feeling of relief rushing through him.

“You thought I was with Henry?  No!  He’s my best friend!  He doesn’t even date.”

This, for some reason, doesn’t seem to fill Janie with the relief Alex had thought it would.

“Are you sure?”

Alex laughs at this.  “Am I sure Henry isn’t my boyfriend?  Pretty sure!”

“You call him sweetheart.”

“I’ve always called him sweetheart.  ‘Cause he has a sweet heart.”

Janie seems to take a moment to appraise Alex, like she’s truly trying to catch him in a lie.  Alex waits patiently, knowing he has nothing to hide nor nothing to defend.  She finally shifts her eyes to her feet, but her expression doesn’t change, almost like the truth is even more disappointing than her original assumptions.

“You and Henry seem…abnormally close.  You don’t act like friends, and I mean that as almost a compliment.”

Alex fights the frustration welling up in his stomach, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw hurts.  The thing is, this isn’t the first time he’s lost out on a date because they’ve been threatened by what he shares with Henry.  He doesn’t know what it is about their relationship that seems to scare people off, or make them think they’re not welcome around the duo.  He feels more emotionally connected to Henry than to anyone else, but swears he doesn’t treat Henry any differently to how he would treat any other friend.

Except for the cuddles on the couch.

And the pet names.

And maybe he’s a little touchier with Henry than he is with Nora or his lacrosse teammates.

And okay, maybe he openly flirts with Henry more than necessary, but it’s so fun seeing Henry blush and seeing his cool facade crumble to dust in front of him, and it’s even more fun when Henry is feeling a little silly and flirts back.

…oh.

“Oh.” Alex stiffens, his arms falling where they had been crossed defensively over his chest.

Janie looks up at him.

“Oh,” she agrees.

Alex doesn’t speak.  He can’t find the words.  Janie only gives him another apologetic look before walking away and leaving Alex alone amongst the books.

The Fifth Time.

Alex doesn’t know what to do with this new realisation.  At first, he figured he would just reduce his apparently overly affectionate mannerisms for Henry, but more than a habit too hard to break, it’s like an addiction Alex doesn’t want to quit.  

Henry’s hair is soft in his fingers when he absentmindedly reaches up to swipe through blonde strands on his way into the kitchen.  Henry is warm on top of him when they both end up horizontal on the couch while watching reruns of Ru Paul’s Drag Race.   Alex doesn’t want to give up the familiarity of lounging on Henry’s bed, enjoying that feeling of being alone but together, and falling asleep beside him even though his own perfectly good bed is across the hall.

From an outsider perspective, he can also see how this might have been throwing off anyone who might be showing interest in either of them, but then Henry smiles at him across the table, looking up from his book report, and it makes Alex’s whole day better.  So maybe it can stay a them problem and Alex and Henry can remain the us problem.

Ultimately, it becomes a him problem, when one night Alex comes home from a particularly brutal study session in the library, and catches Henry grinning at his phone with shining eyes and pink cheeks.  It stops Alex cold.  He recognises that look, despite having not seen it on Henry’s face in a long time.

“Who’s the guy?” Alex tries to play it cool, tries to swallow the pebbles growing in his gut.  His voice comes out sounding like gravel anyway.

It takes a few moments for Henry to stop grinning at his texts and to glance up at Alex.  “Are you sick?” 

“Don’t change the subject.”  His voice sounds veritably normal this time.

Henry is still grinning.  He shrugs, flippant.  Curiosity burns Alex alive.

“Just someone.”

Alex makes a show of wrapping himself around Henry and peering over his shoulders.

“Tell me!” He whines, pleads, tries to look at Henry’s phone even as he hurriedly locks the screen.

“I will if you get your cheeto breath out of my face!”

Alex purposefully huffs right into Henry’s nose.

“What did you eat?” Henry laughs, finally managing to escape Alex’s grip.  “Do you need gum? A dentist’s appointment maybe?”

“If you’re not careful, I’ll use it as a weapon against your boy!”

“He’s not my boy!”

Disappointment floods Alex like a cold shower, and he doesn’t know why.  “But there is a boy.”

Henry smiles, sheepish, scratching his neck.

“Nora introduced us.”

Dammit Nora!

Henry continues.  “It’s nothing yet. It was just coffee.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Alex says, trying his damndest to sound happy for Henry.

Henry takes a moment to respond.  “I hope so.”

And he does sound hopeful.  So hopeful, Alex immediately feels guilty for even thinking this might be a bad thing.  Henry deserves someone special, someone to look after him when his family becomes too much or he’s facing writer’s block.

Alex gives Henry a congratulations, and excuses himself to shower and change, forcing himself to ignore the sudden weight in his chest that has nothing to do with his schoolwork.

Alex meets him.  Martin.  Also British, also from a family of high society and good breeding.  He’s good looking and funny and smart.  Alex hates him, irrationally so, and he recognises he’s wasting his time trying to find a reason he’s not good enough for Henry, because there’s no reason to be found.  It’s like he was tailor made to slip into Henry’s life and court him without resistance.  He might even be someone Henry’s family would even approve of.

Alex sneers at the thought.

June gets him alone after their group dinner, and asks in a quiet and concerned voice if he’s okay.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He fires back, maybe a little harsher than necessary.

June is too nice to pay it any mind.  “Just checking in, baby bro.  I know what it’s like to have a broken heart and have to pretend you don’t.”

Thing is, Alex is dangerously close to figuring out what she means, and he doesn’t want to.  He’s spent years ignoring it, spent years not even noticing.  Why does it have to be now?  

“I’m fine, Junebug.”

She must be really worried about him for her to let him call her Junebug.

It continues like this for weeks.  To Alex’s credit, he does a damn good job of pretending he likes Martin, even though he takes every excuse available to not be around him.  He might even, pettily, put on display exactly how friendly he and Henry are together, because he refuses to give that up for anyone.  Martin doesn’t even bat an eye, compliments their bond, and says it reminds him of his relationship with his own brother.

Alex wants to kick him in the teeth.

It’s late, semester is ending, and Henry has been out with Martin all night.  Alex tries not to stay up just as late wondering why that might be or what they’re doing or if Henry is enjoying it because, as he reminds himself for the thousandth time, it’s none of his business.   Alex sits on the kitchen counter, one of Henry’s cornettos melting over his fingers, glaring into the darkness of the room.

He’s never been jealous over Henry before, because he’s never had to be jealous over Henry before.  Henry dated so briefly in their first year Alex barely remembers it, and after became focused on his studies and his family and his friends.  Alex always admired that side of him, the side that could prioritise, and felt special he was one of those priorities.

Now, he might be becoming second best to him and Alex doesn’t want to think about why that bothers him so much.

Alex shoves the rest of the cornetto in his mouth, and proceeds to choke on the cone.

As he’s finished diving for water from the kitchen sink and clearing his throat of stray wafer, he hears the apartment door open and close.  Careful footsteps as leather boots trudge down the entryway.  Henry pulling his coat off in slow, careful movements.  Sniffling.

“Are you crying?”

Henry cries, lunging for the entryway light.  “Jesus, Alex, you scared me!”

He breathes a sigh of relief upon realising it’s just Alex who’s weird enough to break into their kitchen and eat cornettos in the dark.  Sure enough, his shoulders are hunched in a guarded way and his eyes are rimmed red.  His hair is a mess.  His clothes only look half put together, which for Henry, is so grossly uncharestic of him, Alex can’t help but zero in on the red marks on his exposed collarbone.  

Alex waits for Henry to calm his racing heart, run a hand through his already tousled hair, and try in vain to wipe the more tragic tears from his cheeks.

“What the bloody hell are you doing up in the dark in the middle of the night?” 

“Answer my question first!”

Henry looks sheepish at first, like Alex caught him doing something he’s not meant to, then he just looks tired.  He stops trying to wipe away his tears.

“It’s just been a long night.”

Alex gazes at Henry, at the tired slope of his shoulders, at his all but torn look, the one he wears on his clothes and on his features.  The distraught look in his eyes.  It’s almost as bad as when Henry comes home from seeing his family, like he’s been forced to do something he doesn’t want to.

Alex feels his heart lurch in his throat and his stomach churn.

“I’ll kill him.”

Henry meets Alex’s eyes now.  “Excuse me?”

“I’ll fucking kill him!  What did he do to you?”

“Alex.”

“Actually, don’t tell me.  Save it for the police.”

“Alex!  Geez, shut up!” Henry has his hands on Alex’s shoulders, like Alex is the one who needs to be comforted.  “Nothing like that happened.  It was all very consensual.”

Alex goes between wanting to feel relieved and wanting to feel sick.  It’s a good thing it was ‘very consensual’, Alex tells himself.  Then he realises that shouldn’t explain why Henry looks like he just crawled out of a well after seven days.

“Was is that bad?” Alex asks, meaning it as a joke.  To his surprise, Henry looks down at the floor before giving a defeated nod.

“I’m tragic.  Truly tragic,” he says.  Henry moves around Alex into the kitchen, turning on the light there too, and digging for a cornetto of his own.  Alex leans against the counter, waiting for him to continue.  Henry finds his cornetto, but he stands there with it in his hands, like he’s waiting for it to magically turn into the answer he seems to be searching for.  Then he turns to Alex with so much pain in his eyes it takes Alex’s breath away.  “Have you ever loved someone so much you're sure it will damn near tear you in two to keep loving them?” 

Alex can say he hasn’t.

Henry continues.  “He was the first one I’ve felt anything like that for in so long.  I was so excited. And I was excited I was excited. And you can see how that might spiral. I was so caught up in it I didn't stop to think if it could even go anywhere.”

“C’mon!  So you guys had some bad sex,” Alex tries for light and airy, despite wanting nothing more than to convince Henry to kick him to the curb and never see him again.  But he’s not done not addressing why he feels like that.  “It happens!  Get back on the horse!”

“No, I don’t think there’ll be another go,” Henry says definitively.

“I’ve never known you to be one to give up after the first try.”

“Alex.”

“You’re an amazing guy, Henry, you deserve it!  Cut yourself some slack!”

“Alex.”

“I’ll be your character witness!  I’ll make you sound so good he’ll be begging to give you a second chance!”

“Alex.  I said someone else’s name.”

Alex forgets how to breathe.  “Like…during?”  Which is a stupid question because when else is Henry going to sound someone else’s name when it might be that awkward.

“Yes.  During,” Henry confirms.

“Well.  Shit.”

Despite himself, Henry smiles.  “Bit of an understatement.”

He shrugs, and dumps the cornetto in the sink, apparently deciding he doesn’t want ice cream.

Now Alex has several thousand conflicting emotions running through his head, but he forces them all into the recesses of his mind, focusing on his friend.

“Naturally, he thought I was cheating on him and kicked me out.”  Cornetto forgotten and now wanting to forget the entire night, Henry slowly moves towards his room, murmuring as he does.  “I suppose it’s par for the course.  Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor breaks his own fucking heart.”

Alex wants to follow and hold Henry together like Henry has always held him, but as he looks at the damning evidence around him, he realises there may be too many shards of glass in front of him to know what to do with.  

Plus One.

It’s a few days later when Alex is woken up from a really good nap on the couch by the sound of a camera shutter, Nora leering over him, phone in hand, snapping away at he and Henry knotted around each other.

“I have got to take your key off you,” Alex says, pushing himself up a little, but ultimately forced to remain still while Henry naps away.

“Don’t take my fun away from me!” She cheers.  

Alex makes a face and a gesture at her to keep it down.  Henry sniffs against Alex’s chest, but doesn’t move.

“He hasn’t been sleeping very well lately,” Alex yell-whispers, probably just as loud as Nora was being.  “Let him rest a little longer.”

Nora smiles fondly at them.  “Shall I go pick up treats for the sleeping beauties?”

Alex rolls his eyes.  “I’ll do coffee if you do chips and guac.”

They manage to manoeuvre Alex out from under Henry without disturbing him.  Alex wraps him in a blanket before collecting his keys and wallet and making his way down the street toward the coffee shop.  It’s been warming up slowly, perfect jeans and sweater weather, which is Alex’s favourite time of year.

He looks damn good in jeans and sweaters.

The line at the shop is ridiculously long for a Tuesday afternoon, but Alex takes his place and entertains himself on his phone while the barista slowly moves through everybody’s orders.  The level of candy crush kicking his ass doesn’t hold his attention for long before he’s people watching instead, which means he catches the eyes of someone all too familiar he all too doesn’t want to see.

Henry hasn’t spoken about Martin since he came home that night, and Alex was very happy to never bring him up.  Alex is hoping he’ll turn away awkwardly like Alex is doing, but when Alex scans the room out of the corner of his eye, Martin is still looking at him.  Glaring even.

Alex politely nods, maturely, rather than giving him the finger.

He’s moving up in line when Martin gives up trying to get Alex's attention, and walks across the cafe to him instead.  Alex eyes him, lifting a brow.

“Can I help you?”

It’s not like they’d been close, Alex making damn well sure of that. 

“Well, I kind of wanted to discuss something with you,” Martin says, angry look still on his features, though Alex gives him credit for at least trying to look un-intimidating.

“With me?”

Martin nods.

Alex wants to say no, get fucked, see you in the next life if I don’t kill you there first, but has to remind himself Martin hasn’t done anything wrong.  It just feels like it.  So Alex maturely swallows his more violent answers and nods insteads.

He orders first then moves to Martin’s table.  He figures if he gives Martin enough time until his order is ready, then not-so-politely excuses himself, he’d have been big enough of a person to feel good about himself, and not so rude that any part of himself might feel guilty for it later.

“What’s this about?” Alex asks, only half sitting in his seat.

“I’m sure you heard what happened between Henry and I.”

“Yeah.”  Yes, of course, he’s my best friend, he tells me everything.   “And?”

“And, after some consideration, I’ve found I really would like to see him again.”

Alex has been busy, so he hasn’t had time to address why words like that make him unreasonably angry.  This is what Henry would want.  It’s a good thing.  It’s a good thing.  It is!

“What has that got to do with me?” Alex asks, more vehemently than Martin really deserves.

“Because first, I want to make sure there’s absolutely nothing between you two.”

Usually, Alex would throw up his hands in annoyance.  Probably yell a ‘not this again!’.  Maybe get up and walk away because he’s sick of answering this question, but something stops him from doing any of that, and instead he feels like those shards from before are a little clearer.

“Why would you need to ask me that?  You know Henry and I are just friends.”  

Who is he trying to convince?  Martin or himself?

“Well, considering ‘that night’, I feel I have a right to ask.”

“Again, what has that got to do with…”  Martin seems to be waiting for Alex to finish, but Alex is too busy having an epiphany.  

Me.  Me!  He said my name? He said my name!

Alex is fighting to keep the grin off his face, as he’s seeing it all so clearly.  His jealousy and rage over Martin, having nothing to do with his protectiveness of his friendship with Henry.  Well, maybe a little, but more to do with how much he wanted that friendship to be more.   He should have known, did know, his quirks and private jokes and ‘casual’ flirting would throw people off, whether they were interested in Henry or interested in himself, and he hadn’t done a thing to stop it.

It was so much easier to blame the other party for feeling so threatened by them, rather than address why he wanted them all to dump him in the first place, so he could keep being that way with Henry.  He was the one doing all the dating, Henry having remained out of the scene for the majority of the time he’s known him.  Alex hadn’t ever felt the jealousy he did toward Martin.  Hadn’t needed to figure out why he might be.  

It’s all been there from the beginning, and it’s getting on the side of ridiculous to keep ignoring it.  Maybe he should be having far more of a crisis over realising he’s meant more to Henry this whole time than Henry ever thought to let on, but Alex feels buzzed.  Elated.  Light.  He feels like he’s just won the lottery, or just been named president of the United States.  All that, but better.  

“Oh.”

Martin gives him a puzzled look.  “Excuse me?  Oh?  What does that mean?”

Alex doesn’t answer him.  “I gotta go.” Alex leaps from his seat and heads toward the door, his order forgotten entirely.  He backtracks only to say to Martin, “But I don’t think it’s a very good idea to go for a second chance with Henry.  He probably won’t be very available.”

Martin looks like he wants to argue, but Alex is hurrying out of the cafe before he can.

Henry is in the kitchen when Alex bursts through their apartment door.  He’s sipping tea from a mug with a beagle on it, a mug Alex bought him, because Henry had been feeling homesick and missing David.  Alex had seen the mug and thought it was the greatest thing to gift Henry at the time.  Maybe friends buy their friends mugs when they’re feeling down, or maybe Alex has loved Henry from the beginning too and everyone in the world knew it except him.

“Welcome home, dear,” Henry says.  He means it as a jibe, a way to poke Alex in the ribs, playing to their private joke (that’s not very private, to be honest).  “Good day at the office?”

Except it makes Alex’s heart beat so fast in his chest it almost hurts.

He crosses into the kitchen in only a few strides, wraps his fingers in the short hairs at the base of Henry’s skull, and kisses him.  He feels Henry inhale against him, sharp and short.  Warm tea falls from his tipped mug and onto their feet.  Henry’s knuckles are white around the handle, but his hands are shaking.  Then he’s fumbling to put the mug somewhere safe before soft hands are on Alex’s cheeks and holding him close while Henry finally kisses him back.

Alex’s shoes and pants are soaked with tea.  They’ve been dating five seconds and already made a mess, but Henry smells like spring and home and everything Alex has ever wanted.  He kisses like Alex is made of rose petals, delicate but so passionate, wanting to embrace all of its beauty but do no harm.  Alex pushes Henry against the kitchen counter, his arm going around Henry’s waist, and opens his mouth.

Henry turns greedy, and Alex is more than happy to oblige.

The hands pressed gently to his cheeks turn to clutching fingers in his hair.  The soft, careful breathing turns to whimpers on his lips.  

They have years of this to catch up on, and they seem to be determined to do it all right now.

Except their apartment door opens and closes, Nora coming stomping back in.  Henry pulls away, suddenly looking surprised and flummoxed and maybe a little confused.  He tries to make space between them but Alex doesn’t let him, only kissing him again, just as firmly, just as sweet.  There’s no confusion here.  No talk of ‘is he sure’ or ‘maybe you should think about this’.  

Henry takes his answer and swallows it.

“Gross!  I make food in here!” Nora dumps her convenience store hall on the opposite counter.  

Alex finally parts from Henry with a wet sound.  Henry’s lips are pink and shiny and so, so tempting.  

“When you’re done mopping up your mess, I’m putting Madagascar on,” Nora says, giving them a knowing smirk (all her smirks are but this one is particularly knowledgeable), and leaves the kitchen.  

It finally hits Alex that Henry’s tea is soaking his sneakers.  It’s very uncomfortable.  Henry grabs a towel and a dish cloth.  

“Um, that was.  I mean.”  He’s bright red and looking anywhere but at Alex.

“Good?”

When Henry finally does look at Alex, his eyes are wide and watery, pools of blue Alex has gotten lost in so many times before and not bothered to think that maybe that’s not what ‘just friends’ do.

“Fucking incredible,” Henry says on a breathy laugh.  

“Good.” And Alex kisses him again.

He eventually does help clean up the mess he helped make, takes off his shoes and hurries into his room to change his pants.  Nora is deep into the opening of her movie and a packet of potato chips, Henry beside her still in his PJs.  Alex doesn’t hesitate to take the seat beside Henry, intertwining their fingers, and presses as close to Henry as Henry will let him.

Which is pretty close.

June joins them halfway through the movie.

“Henry and Alex are boyfriends.”

Alex wants to hiss at Nora for getting to tell June before he can, but Henry has taken to leaning his head on Alex’s shoulder and he’s really comfortable.  In a new way.

“Like that’s new information,” June responds, dumping her work with a loud thump by the entrance and taking a spot on the floor between Nora and Henry’s legs.  

“Yeah but like, now they know too.”

June twists around to look up at Alex and Henry properly, now noticing the way Henry is a little too happy to be leaning against Alex.  How tightly Alex holds Henry’s hand.  The smile Alex can’t seem to get to leave his face.

“Oh, good for you two.  How does it feel being the last to know?”

Alex asks Henry to kick her for him.  Henry doesn’t because he’s too polite and perfect, so Alex tells June he owes her one.

Nora and June take Henry’s room and Henry and Alex bunk up in Alex’s.  This isn’t exactly a new arrangement, something they’ve always done when it’s too late for the girls to take the train back to their own dwellings.  It’s only different now that Alex and Henry do a lot more behind closed doors.

Henry is breathless underneath Alex, unable to get close enough to Alex to do what he wants while being literally pressed against him.  Alex teases Henry’s tongue with his own and moans.  He knows there’s not a lot more that’s going to happen tonight, both too tired (physically and emotionally), but Henry tastes like microwave popcorn and red vines and feels like everything familiar in Alex’s life.

It’ll take them months of this to feel like they’ve found all their lost time, but Alex is very much willing to find it all with Henry.

It’s late, going on one in the morning.  They stopped making out a while ago, but haven’t bothered to close their eyes and wait for sleep, too wired up on each other.  Alex has his arms wound around Henry.  Henry has his chest pressed to Alex’s and fingers wrapped in the back of his sleep shirt.  Alex is busy counting the specks of green in Henry’s eyes.  Every time he blinks he has to start again.

“So, not that I’m at all complaining,” Henry starts, voice soft in the night, like he’s scared if he makes any sudden sounds or movements, he’ll scare away whatever this is.  “But…why?”

“Why did I kiss you?” Alex starts.  “Or why did I take so long to figure out how I feel about you?”

“Both.”

“I kissed you because I love you.  And I didn’t realise I loved you for so long because…” He wants to say it’s because he’s an idiot, but knows that doesn’t really scratch the surface.  “I don’t have a good excuse.”

Henry slides his hand up and down Alex’s back, a gesture so comforting Alex already feels himself falling apart in Henry’s arms.  It’s a strange sensation; trusting someone so much to break in their arms, knowing they’ll hold all the shards until you’re ready to put yourself back together.

“You don’t need to have an excuse, Alex.  You have no idea how unbelievably happy you’ve made me tonight.”

Alex slides his own hands under Henry’s shirt and strokes the soft skin he finds there.  So soft.  Like how is Henry real soft.

“Can I ask,” Alex starts, being just as careful in the dark.  “Why you didn’t tell me?  I mean, I can’t say for sure if I would have agreed at the time, I’m kind of slow if you hadn’t noticed.”  That makes Henry laugh.  “But I feel like I would’ve wanted to try.”

Henry is still rubbing Alex’s back.  He takes his time thinking about his answer.

“Because I think I knew, or suspected, you might love me back, but there were two parts of me and neither agreed with it.  One said that was only wishful thinking, the other convinced me you’re too good for me, so why bother?  You’ll move on and find someone else and I’ll have been better off for never even having tried.”

Alex has always known Henry has the biggest fucking heart on the planet.  It’s why sweetheart turned into a term of endearment and not just a name he’d use to poke fun at Henry.  When Henry bares himself like he is now, it feels like it would take all of Alex’s strength to hold him together.  There’s just so much of him he leaves open to fall to pieces.

“Can I ask now, what changed your mind?  You came in rather suddenly.  Not that it wasn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Alex grins and slides forward on the pillow to kiss Henry’s lips.  It’s dark, so his aim is off, and he gets the corner of his mouth instead.  He can still feel Henry’s smile anyway.

“I ran into Martin at the cafe.”  Henry’s soft notions stop abruptly.  “He asked if there was anything going on between us, because he wanted to try for a second chance with you.”

“So, he made you jealous?” Alex can hear the sigh of relief underlying Henry’s words.

“Oh, definitely,” Alex freely admits.  Henry sags against him, fingers returning to running lines up and down Alex’s back.  Alex closes his eyes and just enjoys the feeling of Henry, but pretty soon he whispers against him.  “So you call my name during sex?”

Henry cries, squeals, attempts to squirm away from Alex.  Alex laughs, arms winding tighter, letting barely an inch between them.  Henry has his face covered with both hands.  Alex is sure, if he could see, Henry’s ears would be turning pink.

“ Why!?   Why would he tell you that?”

Alex can’t help laughing harder.  “He didn’t, he just mentioned ‘that night’ and, coupled with interrogating me, I put two and two together.”

“You’ve never been good at maths!  Why start now!?”

Alex buries his nose in Henry’s neck, in the sweet spot under his jaw, laughing against his skin.

“Is it everyone, all the time?  Or was it just him?”

Henry is still trying to get away from Alex, but Alex is holding fast.

“Please stop!  You have no idea how mortified I was!”  Henry finally pulls his hands away but won’t face Alex.  “Here I thought I’d finally found someone I could use to get over you, and you're in my head anyway!”

Alex has stopped laughing.  He’s busy kissing apologies against Henry’s skin.

“How about I call your name twice as loud in return?” he offers.

“You won’t be having sex with somebody else while you do!”

Alex laughs again.  Henry turns in Alex’s arms to shut him up with a proper kiss, and when he does that thing his tongue, Alex can’t imagine saying anyone else’s name so intimately ever again.