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Henry’s feet drag like lead weights as he climbs the steps to the brownstone. He’s honestly surprised he’s managed to make it home without collapsing. He’s so tired, he can feel it like a physical weight pressing in on his limbs. There’s a tightness at the back of his throat that’s been there since morning, the feeling he gets whenever he’s about to cry. He’s held it steady there all day, and he thinks to himself as he opens the door that if one more thing, just one more thing goes wrong today, he won’t be able to hold it back anymore. He just needs to sleep. That’s all. He’s going to walk in, take off his shoes, loosen his tie and fall face-first into bed. Yes, that sounds like a plan.
But when Henry opens the door, instead of being greeted by an excitable David, or Alex shouting hello from somewhere in the house, Alex is right there at the door to meet him, practically blocking the entrance. Henry blinks blearily at the sight, thinking perhaps he’s moved on to full-on hallucinations now. But then Alex speaks, and Henry knows he’s very much real.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Alex says softly. He’s got this look on his face, half fond, half concerned. But why would Alex be concerned? Henry only just got home. Has something happened? And if it did, why would Alex be giving him this soft smile as if Henry had just done something particularly charming?
“Er, hello,” Henry manages. His voice is rough and weak coming out of his mouth. He clears his throat if only to sound slightly less pathetic when he speaks next. “Is...is everything alright? Why’re you standing in the doorway like that?”
Alex’s grin only widens. Oh. He’s up to something, Henry realizes. Alex only smiles like that when he’s been scheming.
“I have a little surprise for you,” Alex says.
Henry deflates. Oh, no. This is not good. Alex has probably cooked up some incredible meal and set the table for a romantic dinner, or planned some sort of outing or activity for them. It’s Friday night, after all. But Henry doesn’t have the energy. Just keeping himself upright is a herculean task for him right now; there’s no way he’ll be able to enjoy whatever it is that Alex has planned. And Alex will be disappointed. He won’t say it out loud, but it’ll be there in his eyes, and Henry will go to bed feeling exhausted and now guilty on top of it. He feels awful. He hasn’t even fully walked in the door and somehow he’s already ruined the evening. He can’t stand to tell Alex that he’s not up for anything tonight, can’t stand to see the disappointment on his face, he just can’t. It’s all too much. It’s too much.
Standing in the doorway, with Alex looking at him with those beautiful, expectant brown eyes, the dam that Henry had been building up all day finally breaks, and he can’t help it. He cries. He hunches forward, just barely catching himself on the door jamb, puts his head in his hand and cries. And now that he’s started, he can’t seem to stop. Everything that’s been simmering in his chest all day, all week, all month has suddenly come to a boil, coming out in broken sobs and pained whimpers. He thinks Alex is talking to him, but he can’t hear him past the sound of his own cries and ragged breaths. He feels vaguely like he’s underwater. Everything is muffled and blurry. His limbs are heavy and useless, and his chest is so tight, he can barely breathe.
He’s moving, Henry realizes belatedly, when he finally registers the feeling of one foot stepping in front of the other. Alex’s arms are around him, holding up most of his weight and helping to maneuver him.
“It’s okay, Hen. Just breathe. It’s okay,” Henry hears Alex say from somewhere around him. His voice is like some ethereal spirit, coming somehow from all directions at once. He focuses on it and lets it ground him, but keeps his eyes closed. He can’t look at Alex right now. Can’t look at anything. He just wants to curl up into a ball and sleep for twelve hours straight and pretend like he didn’t just break down crying in front of his boyfriend for seemingly no apparent reason.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Alex goes on.
Henry is on the couch, now. He can feel the soft cushions beneath him, and his head, he notices, is pillowed in Alex’s lap. Alex is rubbing a hand up and down his back, the motion soothing and grounding at the same time. Henry remembers telling Alex that things like that were helpful when he was feeling anxious or stressed; the pressure and the weight of someone’s hand on him gave him something to focus on. And of course Alex remembered; he’s such a good partner. So caring and thoughtful. It only makes Henry want to cry more. It’s just so unbelievable sometimes, that he gets to have this. It’s such a simple thing, being touched like this, but it’s something he’d convinced himself for so many years that he’d never have. And if it weren’t for the soft texture of Alex’s joggers on his cheek or the lingering smell of Alex’s cologne, Henry is sure he would’ve thought he was dreaming right now.
“There we go, just breathe, H. You’re okay. Everything’s okay.”
And hell, maybe it is, Henry thinks. Maybe it is okay, actually, now that he thinks about it. Maybe he’d been a bit silly, thinking that he’d somehow done something wrong just by being tired. Sure, Alex might be disappointed at having to cancel their plans, but it was still no reason for Henry to feel guilty. Alex would understand, and they could reschedule whatever it was he’d had planned for the night. Right. Of course. God, where were these logical thoughts ten minutes ago when Henry needed them?
For the first time since he came home, Henry takes a long, deep breath, and feels himself relax, even if only marginally. He focuses on Alex’s hand for a few more minutes, takes a few more deep breaths, and finally opens his eyes. And when he does, well. Maybe he’s dreaming after all, because when Henry looks around at the apartment, properly looks at it, he sees what Alex’s little surprise for him was.
The lights in the living room are off, but wrapped around the sofa and end tables are strings of fairy lights. The television is on, paused on the beginning of an episode of Bake Off. On the coffee table in front of them is a plate of Jaffa Cakes and a mug of tea. And along with the fairy lights, the sofa is absolutely covered in pillows and blankets. And there, folded neatly on one of the cushions, is a pair of Henry’s pajamas.
Henry sits up a little more, still a bit shaky, and turns to get a better look at Alex. Now that the fog in his head is starting to clear, he can see that Alex is dressed in his own pajamas; an old lacrosse hoodie and the navy blue joggers that Henry always says his legs look great in. He isn’t dressed to go out. And the way the apartment looks, it doesn’t seem like he has any intention of going anywhere. In fact, it seems like- well, it seems like Alex had very much planned for them to stay in.
“Alex, what...what is all this?” Henry asks, sitting up properly now.
That soft smile is back on Alex’s face. He wraps an arm around Henry to keep him steady.
“Do you remember when I called you at lunch?” Alex asks gently.
Henry furrows his brow, searching his cloudy memory. Lunch feels like years ago at this point.
“I think so, yes.”
“I called to ask if you knew where my blue folder was.”
“Right. Yes.” Henry sort of recalls that now.
“And you told me you thought you’d seen it in your study the other day.”
“I did?”
“You did.”
“And...was it in there?”
“It was, but that’s not the point, H. When I talked to you, you sounded really out of it. I asked if you were okay, if you wanted to come home early, but you said you were fine.” Henry can’t exactly remember all of that, but it certainly sounds like something he’d say. “I know how hard you’ve been working lately,” Alex goes on, “and I know you haven’t been sleeping well--”
Henry opens his mouth to speak, but Alex holds up a finger to stop him.
“Don’t even try it, Wales. You’re not as light on your feet as you think you are when you sneak out of bed at two in the morning to work on your book.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah. And so I just...I wanted to do something nice for you. I wanted you to be able to come home and relax. I wasn’t just gonna wait until you collapsed at some charity function or dozed off and fell into another wedding cake.”
“Well, I hardly think I fell the first time; I believe I was pushed--”
“Let’s not go there, sweetheart,” Alex says with a hand up. “You know what I mean,” he says in a softer voice.
“I know,” Henry says. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not being more honest about how I’ve been feeling. For trying to hide it from you. Perhaps if I’d told you earlier, I wouldn’t have…” Henry gestures vaguely to the door.
“Had a panic attack in the doorway?”
“Yes. That.”
Alex rubs a hand soothingly over Henry’s back.
“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re okay now. I’m not gonna lie, I got really worried when you started crying. I thought...I don’t know, that maybe I said something wrong, or did something to upset you without meaning to and that I totally fucked up this whole evening and I—”
“Alex, Alex,” Henry says, laughing a little. He lifts his hands to cup Alex’s face. “I only panicked because I thought I was the one who’d cocked this whole evening up.”
“What?”
Henry pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head.
“When you said you had a surprise for me, I panicked because I thought you’d planned a dinner or a night out for us, and I knew I wouldn’t have had the energy to go and you’d be disappointed.”
“So...you were upset because you were worried you’d make me upset? And I was upset because I thought I’d made you upset?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“God, we’re idiots.”
Henry laughs shakily and tucks his head underneath Alex’s chin.
“Speak for yourself, love,” he says.
Alex wraps his arms around Henry and gives him an exaggerated kiss on the top of his head. He just holds him for a few moments, and Henry lets himself relax into the comfort of his arms.
“How are you feeling now?” Alex whispers. “I mean, how are you really feeling?”
Henry sighs. Thinks for a moment.
“I feel...exhausted, Alex,” Henry says. It feels oddly good to say it out loud. To say something other than he’s fine. “I think the adrenaline from my panic is wearing off and I...if I’m honest, I think I just want to sleep right now. Is that...is that alright?”
Henry looks up at Alex, who’s looking down at him with so much love in his eyes that Henry thinks he might just cry again.
“Of course it’s alright,” Alex says. “Lord knows you need the rest,” he jokes lightly. “Do you want to go to bed, or are you okay here?”
“Our bed is wonderful, but you did such a lovely job making this room so cozy, I think I want to stay here.”
“June might’ve helped with the setup a bit,” Alex admits. “The fairy lights were her idea.”
“I’ll have to thank her.”
“Please don’t. She’ll just rub it in that she was right.”
“As she should.”
“Right. Okay. Time for bed.” Alex claps his hands together decisively and stands up. “You go change into your pajamas, and I’ll set up the couch so you can sleep while I watch one of my documentaries that you so rudely refuse to watch with me.”
“They’re so dreadfully dull, Alex.”
Alex picks up Henry’s pajamas and shoves them into his chest.
“Go get changed.”
Henry laughs under his breath and makes his way to their bedroom to change. When he comes back out, Alex is sitting at the end of the sofa with two pillows leaned up against his thigh and at least three blankets spread out next to them. He’s got some documentary on about the history of American railroads and actually, it sounds rather interesting. Henry doesn’t end up catching much of it, though, because as soon as he’s cocooned in his blankets, curled up next to Alex with Alex slowly running his fingers through his hair, he’s fast asleep.
Henry sleeps soundly through the entire night.