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Something delicious in the air hits Alex as he walks into the brownstone. His shoulders are slouched and he knows he usually would run straight to the kitchen and surprise Henry but right now he just can't find it in him.
It feels like the energy has been sucked right out of his soul, leaving him feeling hollow and so, so exhausted.
He weakly kicks off his shoes and throws his jacket over one of the chairs he passes by, not even caring to look if actually landed there.
He knows that he looks just about as well as he feels. He knows that, despite how much he tries, Henry is still going to worry about him when he sees him. And Alex knows he won't be able to shake off the guilt clogging his chest when he sees the worry lines on Henry's forehead as he studies Alex's face.
But his boyfriend is a sight to behold—swaying softly in front of the stovetop in socked feet, Airpods in his ears, wearing a navy sweatshirt that Alex recognizes as his. It's a little too big for Alex, but it hugs Henry's shoulders just perfectly, making him look soft under the overhead lights.
Alex can hear him humming some song so quietly, lost in the melody. And he can't help but want to seek his boyfriend's warmth, allow himself to sink into the soft, peaceful feeling that he can feel basically radiating off of Henry's body, and let it wash over him—let himself be held and not care about a damn thing in the world.
He doesn't move though, but the smile that breaks on Henry's face when he turns and sees Alex behind him is nothing short of brilliant, so bright it makes his heart thud and like something in him shifts.
He just loves him too much.
“Hey, love,” Henry says softly, as he takes the earbuds out. His smile is soft and his eyes are glinting in delight under overhead lights as Alex throws himself onto him, letting himself be held tightly by a slightly startled but pleased Henry. He sighs a bit loudly, feeling a bit of the tension in his shoulders seep out, and holds Henry back just as tightly if not more, burrowing his face in Henry's neck and breathing in the familiar scent of him. He can feel it washing over his exhausted heart and mind, making him feel calmer and calmer, little by little. A hug that feels like home. “Bad day?”
“Not exactly,” he murmurs and Henry tightens his hold around his shoulders. Alex takes it as permission to hold him even tighter that he's sure it might be bordering on bone-crushing. But Henry doesn't pull back—just massages Alex's scalp and detangles the mussed-up curls in his way.
Alex feels like letting out a breath he's been holding in for too long; it was beginning to suffocate him. His eyes slip shut as he breathes out.
Henry squirms, laughing a bit. “Sorry.” Alex pulls back as Henry apologizes. “That tickled.”
Alex laughs and shakes his head, looking at his boyfriend's deep blue eyes as they search his face. Henry's gaze softens.
He can't help but feel like Henry can see right into his heart and know what exactly is going on inside Alex's mind by just looking at him—that he doesn't need to overwhelm him with questions or push for an answer.
They haven't been living together for that long, yet Henry knows him so well, inside and out, every little expression and every little movement—the slight shake in the tone of his voice, and the way he bounces his knee when he's anxious. It should be scary, he thinks, to have someone who knows him this well, every little tick, and every single move. But instead, it's nothing but comforting. It's a feeling he wants to sink into—to have someone know him this well and love every single part of him. It's soothing and quiet and everything Alex never thought he could have.
“Are you sure everything is alright?” Henry asks in a whisper like even the slightest loud noise would break this little peaceful bubble they're in, ghosting his lips over Alex's temple and gathering him in his arms again.
“It is now,” Alex answers him simply because it's true. This entire week sucked and he feels drained of every bit of energy he had in him, but now, when he's in Henry's arms feeling his chest rising and falling steadily with each breath against his own, it doesn't all seem so bad.
He feels like he wants to hide in Henry's arms forever if possible, stay in this little comfort bubble and drown in all the love and care Henry would offer him every minute of it. Well, maybe not forever, at least for the weekend ahead.
Alex pulls back and captures Henry's lips in a slow, impossibly soft kiss. Henry cradles his jaw ever so gently and melts into the kiss.
Alex pulls back feeling a little drunk with it, and when he opens his eyes he sees that Henry's are still closed.
God, he's fucking beautiful.
“What are you making?” He says as he falls back on his heels, a breathless laugh him escaping when Henry seeks him out for one last peck before turning to the stovetop with a flourish.
“Gnocchi,” he answers, almost bashfully. “I made it from scratch and it took me an embarrassing amount of time to figure out how to shape them correctly. But— well, you'll be the judge of whether it's actually good. The sauce is about to be ready.”
A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Well, it doesn't look burned, yet. So, I'm sure it'll be good.”
“A bloody menace,” Henry laughs and leans down to kiss him anyway. “Go change. I'll set the table.”
Dinner passes by in a blur, but there are these little details that Alex knows will never leave his mind: Henry's laugh when Alex moaned with his first bite; the way his cheeks flushed and he looked down at his plate, almost bashful; the way Henry seemed content to carry out the conversation on his own, telling Alex about his day at the shelter and the little book club he started with the kids, and Alex feels lost in the glint of pride in Henry's eyes as he speaks.
It was him up from the inside hearing Henry talk like that, pride evident in his choked-up voice, the passion and the tone of disbelief that he did this, that he has this. And the more Alex listens to him talk and lets his voice wrap around him like a familiar weighted blanket, he finds that he can relate.
“Do you want to talk about your day?” It's only when they're in bed that Henry asks again. After a long relaxing bath where he almost fell asleep on Henry's shoulder while he whispered sweet nothings into his ears and washed his hair, Alex was starting to feel a little more like himself. Well, a soupy, relaxed, sleepy version of himself but it's still a thousand times better than any other version of himself he lived through this week.
Henry took care of him and never pushed him to talk, and Alex felt so fucking grateful for it that he could cry. He didn't, he just clung to his boyfriend the entire time, only offering a hum or a soft laugh in reply.
And now with Henry's hands absentmindedly brushing his damp curls, Alex feels like maybe he can talk about it.
“It was just… exhausting,” Alex murmurs finally, burrowing his face in Henry's neck and putting his leg over Henry's thighs.
Henry only holds him back in return, humming as if encouraging him to continue.
“You know, I love law school. I never thought law was something I'd want, but I do and I genuinely enjoy it—the mock trials, the unhinged cases, my teachers. Even when it gets boring or exhausting, I still want it, except—”
“Except?”
“It's been just that lately: exhausting. I spend about twenty minutes in a class and suddenly everything is too much and I want to leave. Studying and doing assignments all just feel like a burden now.” He shuts his eyes tight, taking in a breath. “I feel running steadily towards the point of burnout— like I'm carrying too much.”
Alex never thought, not in a million years, that he'd be the one to admit that, even at his lowest. And when Henry speaks again in a playful tone and murmurs, “Now he gets it.” to which Alex elbows him, it feels almost freeing, like it took some of the weight off his shoulders, just finally admitting it.
“Asshole,” he whispers, but he's laughing too. Pulling back, he can barely see Henry's smile in the almost dark room, but he can imagine the light blush that would dust his cheeks and the little mischievous glint in his eyes that he rarely gets to see.
He simply just has to kiss him.
“Tomorrow, I'm going to bake a ridiculous amount of cookies, and I'm not gonna let you help. Just sit there and watch me. As a punishment.”
“Oh, goodness,” Henry deadpans, and Alex bursts into laughter again. “How am I, a mortal, shall bear such punishment.”
“I hate you.”
“And I love you, dear.” The hand in Alex's hair guides him into another breathless kiss. And Alex lets himself sink into it, his mind blissfully blank after a few seconds, the rhythm of his heartbeats in his chest matching Henry's under his palm.
“I love you,” he whispers back, and kisses Henry's cheek, letting his head fall back on his boyfriend's shoulder.
There's nowhere else in the world he'd rather be.