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Henry’s phone rings. Again.
“You sure you don’t want to answer that?” Alex asks, shifting his attention from the tv screen to his roommate when Henry ignores a third call in less than ten minutes.
Henry glances at him like he’s startled by the question and quickly recovers. “It’s Darren,” he offers as an explanation, putting his phone away again. “I’ll just call him later.”
“Everything okay?” Alex asks. Not that he’s so eager to hear about Henry’s boyfriend when he can barely stand the guy, but there’s a tension in Henry’s shoulders that Alex hasn’t seen in ages, and, well. He worries.
Henry shows him a small smile. “Everything’s great. Just not really up for talking right now.”
Alex nods. “I get that.” He pauses. “You know you can talk to me if you need to, right? If things aren’t great.”
Henry’s face softens, his shoulders relaxing a bit. “I know,” he murmurs. “Thanks.”
He turns back to the television, and Alex forces himself to do the same. He tears his gaze away from Henry’s profile and focuses on their Star Wars marathon again, refusing to acknowledge how cuddly Henry looks in soft pajamas and fuzzy, mismatched socks. Alex’s heart leaps in his chest anyway.
He drapes a blanket over Henry’s body when he falls asleep before the movie is over, his face turned to Alex and cheek squished against the back of the couch. Alex resists the urge to push blond strands of hair away from his forehead and lets his hands hover over the blanket for a moment before they fall on his lap again.
He knew having a crush on his roommate would be confusing, frustrating, and borderline heartbreaking. None of that stopped him.
Alex is making coffee the next morning when Henry walks into the kitchen with mussed hair and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Alex greets cheerfully, grabbing his favorite mug from the cupboard. “Don’t you look ready to face the day.”
Henry squints at him through half lidded eyes and yawns. “You are far too awake for eight in the morning. Who are you and what have you done with my grumpy roommate?”
“I put the kettle on for your fancy tea.”
Henry’s face lights up. “You are an angel and you’ve never done anything wrong in your life.” He takes the mug Alex already placed on the counter for him and fills it with boiling water before reaching for an Earl Grey tea bag.
Warmth and pride blossom in Alex’s chest at the words. He needs to get a fucking grip.
He focuses on finishing his coffee, adding sugar and an unreasonable amount of cinnamon as Henry sits at the kitchen table. He’s quiet again, that same faraway look in his eyes Alex saw last night, but Alex decides not to ask. Henry will come to him when he’s ready, if he wants to talk.
He places his mug across from Henry and puts two slices of bread in the toaster, opening the fridge to retrieve the butter and strawberry jam. Alex is personally fonder of blueberry, but strawberry is Henry’s favorite, so he makes sure they always have some.
“We haven’t had sex yet.”
He almost drops the jar in surprise, managing to save it at the last second with a yelp. He gingerly puts it down on the table to avoid any further accidents and looks up at Henry. There’s an amused glint in his eyes that’s overshadowed by the crease in his brow and the way he worries his lower lip between his teeth, holding his tea tightly between his palms.
“Darren and I,” he clarifies when Alex is silent. “We haven’t… done that yet.”
“Oh.” Alex nods and sits down, unsure of what to say. He’s not sure whether he’s surprised or not. He knows they’ve been dating for about a month, but maybe they just wanted to take things slow.
Henry stares at the steaming mug in his hands. “He wants to.”
Alex nods again. “Do you want to?” he asks gently, figuring the answer should be that simple.
“He’s my boyfriend,” Henry says quietly.
Alarm bells go off in Alex’s brain. “That doesn’t mean anything,” he hurries to say. “You don’t have to have sex with him just because he’s your boyfriend.”
Henry is silent for a long time. “Shouldn’t I want to?” His voice is so low Alex almost doesn’t catch it. Then he does, and his heart breaks a little.
“Hen…”
“Shouldn’t I want to?” Henry repeats, a little louder now. He lifts his eyes up to Alex’s face, wide and a little desperate. “We’re dating. We’re in a relationship together. Isn’t that how… how it works? You get into a relationship, and you… want to be intimate with the person you’re in a relationship with?” He swallows and looks back down at his hands. “What does it mean if we’re together and I still don’t…”
Alex reaches over the table, gently untangling Henry’s rigid hands from his mug. “It means there’s nothing wrong with you,” he says. His voice is soft but firm, and he squeezes Henry’s hands until he looks up with stormy blue eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with you, H. You’re not supposed to feel anything, you’re just you. You don’t have to have sex with him, it doesn’t matter if he’s your boyfriend.”
Henry looks at him like he’s hearing the words for the first time. Alex focuses on brushing his thumbs over Henry’s knuckles so he doesn’t do something stupid like find Darren and give him a piece of his mind. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” Alex reassures.
“But I still want intimacy,” Henry blurts out, worrying his lower lip with his teeth until it’s red and shining. “I still want hugs, and cuddles, and kisses. To be close to someone, without… without it having to lead anywhere. I can’t just…”
“Separate the two?” Alex asks gently when Henry doesn’t finish. His heart clenches painfully in his chest when Henry’s eyes water. “You can, Henry. You can have anything you want, and you don’t have to have sex with anyone to deserve it.”
Two tears roll down Henry’s cheeks and Alex fights the urge to reach out and wipe them away. His chest feels furiously tight with the growing suspicion that Henry has never heard these words before, protectiveness and anger swirling in his gut.
“This is a dealbreaker, isn’t it?” Henry whispers, his voice resigned. Alex wants to wrap him in a hug and shield him from the outside world.
He squeezes his hands again instead. “Not for everyone.” Not for me, he thinks frantically to himself as Henry’s fingers tighten around his.
Henry shakes his head like his whole world is rearranging before his very eyes. His voice breaks when he speaks again. “Alex, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to have sex with anyone.”
Without a word, Alex steps around the table and lets Henry cry into the crook of his shoulder, stroking the hair at the back of his head as his body shakes with silent tears. Henry clings to him like Alex is the only thing grounding him to reality, and Alex holds him back just as fiercely.
“Hey,” he whispers when Henry’s body subsides and he lifts his head, tired eyes and wet eyelashes. Alex swipes his thumbs along Henry’s cheeks, trying to brush away the tear tracks, probably imagining the way Henry leans into the touch. “Have you ever looked into asexuality?”
Henry shakes his head slowly, his eyelashes catching on the tip of Alex’s thumb. “You should do some research,” he continues. “It could help, maybe clear some things up for you.”
Henry frowns confusedly, and it’s unbelievably endearing. “What does that mean?”
Alex shows him a small smile. “It means you’re not alone, H.”
That evening, Alex comes home to find Henry curled up on the couch, holding his phone with one trembling hand and trying to wipe his tears away with the other. He doesn’t waste any time dropping his things in the hallway and kneeling in front of Henry, placing his hands on Henry’s knees. “H? Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay—”
“Alex.”
He cuts himself off at the sight of a wide, beautiful grin stretching across Henry’s lips. It robs Alex of his breath. “Hey,” he whispers with a small smile as Henry’s phone slips from his hand, shades of grey and purple illuminating the screen. “You alright, Hen?”
For the second time that day, Alex threads his fingers through Henry’s hair as his tears wet the collar of Alex’s shirt, but now there’s breathless laughter mixed in between sobs of relief, Henry’s hands holding onto the back of his shirt like a lifeline. “I’m not alone,” he keeps whispering over and over again, something akin to wonder in his voice. “I’m not alone.”
“Darren and I broke up,” Henry says halfway into the movie. Alex pulls his eyes away from Die Hard as Bruce Willis swears up a storm and turns to face Henry, surprised at the sudden statement.
It’s been three days since Henry laid himself bare in front of Alex and cried laughing into his shoulder. Three days of Henry answering phone calls that left him with pursed lips and brushing off Alex’s concerned look with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Three days of talking about everything except that particular topic. Henry didn’t mention it again, and Alex didn’t want to push, figuring it wasn’t in his right to invade Henry’s privacy by approaching it first.
“Oh,” Alex says now, shifting to better face Henry. “I’m sorry.”
Henry turns to him, blue eyes shining in the dim room. Resting his head on the back of the couch, he looks far more relaxed than Alex has seen him in days. His lips quirk up. “No, you’re not.”
Alex pauses. “No, I’m not. That guy was a jackass.” Henry chuckles. “Are you okay, though?”
Henry is quiet for a bit. “I thought I wouldn’t be, but… yeah. I am.”
Alex doesn’t say anything, sensing that Henry isn’t done speaking. He watches as Henry’s hands pull at the blanket laid across their laps, thinking his words over before continuing.
“I wasn’t in love with him or anything,” he says evenly. “I’m not really upset that we’re not dating anymore. But even if I had been in love with him, it wouldn’t have changed the outcome. He wanted something that I just… can’t give him.”
Alex must not have been managing his expression as well as he thought because Henry laughs and rolls his eyes at him. “You never liked him.”
“I never thought he treated you right.”
The corner of Henry’s mouth gives a twitch. “No, maybe he didn’t,” he says softly, and the blush coloring his cheeks must be a trick of the light.
Alex opens and closes his mouth several times, debating whether to ask. “Did he ever—”
“No.” Henry cuts him off quietly before he can get another word in. “No. I didn’t let it get that far.”
“Good.” Alex nods. “That’s good.”
Henry ducks his head and turns back to the movie, but this time Alex doesn’t miss the blush riding high on his face. He feels a small smile tug at his own lips and tries to ignore the warmth spreading in his chest, tucks it away inside his ribcage where it’s safe and hidden.
“Thank you,” Henry says a few minutes later. He’s staring straight at the television, and he doesn’t look away this time. “For that morning. For knowing just what to say. I…” He takes a steady breath. “Thank you.”
Alex reaches across the blanket and takes Henry’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Henry tightens his grip almost immediately, squeezing gently, and Alex’s heart makes a violent attempt to leap out of his chest.
“Anytime, H,” he murmurs, and maybe he means it a little more than he should.
“I come bearing Italian,” Alex sings as he comes home a week later and closes the front door behind himself. He finds Henry sitting on the armchair with his feet tucked under his thighs, a steaming mug in his hands. Alex stops in his tracks. “Is that— Are you drinking tea right now?”
Henry stills with his drink an inch away from his lips. “Er.” Big, innocent blue eyes blink up at him. “No?”
Alex groans halfheartedly and dumps the takeout bags on the dining table. “How the fuck do you drink so much of that every day? I swear, you Brits have tea running in your veins.”
Henry sputters, clutching his mug protectively to his chest. “Lies. Slander. I resent that implication.”
“Oh, so that’s not your, like, eighth cup of the day?” Alex asks with a raised brow.
Henry has the decency to look sheepish as he mumbles, “It’s my ninth, you menace.”
Alex throws his head back in a laugh and starts to take the plastic containers out of the paper bag. “I knew it. Come on, dinner is here and it’ll be cold in minutes. I got your favorite, but the place was packed, and everything was a mess and I’m pretty sure they fucked up the… the order…”
He trails off without meaning to when his eyes linger and stop at the shelf they keep in the corner of the living room. It’s filled to the brim with Henry’s novels and Alex’s law textbooks, pictures of their families and knick-knacks they’re too sentimental to throw away. Right at the top is where they keep two little pride flags, with the rainbow and the bisexual colors.
There’s a third one now when Alex’s gaze zeros in on it. The asexual flag, illuminated by the setting sun in shades of black, grey, white, and purple.
“Alex? What…” Henry’s voice by his side pierces through the silence as he follows Alex’s line of sight. “Oh. Right.” His voice is quiet, almost like he’s embarrassed. “I… I hope that’s okay.”
Alex turns his head and Henry’s profile is right there, sharp nose and blushing cheekbones. His jaw is set, and his shoulders are straighter than usual like he’s bracing himself for impact. Still always expecting rejection, like he doesn’t know Alex would give his life to show Henry how much he means to him.
“It’s perfect, H,” he whispers. The tension slips out of Henry’s body a second later like those were the magic words, and when his eyes meet Alex’s again, they’re clear and vulnerable and full of hope.
“Yeah?” he asks quietly.
Alex knocks their shoulders together and sucks in a breath when Henry doesn’t move away. “I’m proud of you.”
When Henry exhales a shaky breath and hides his face in Alex’s curls, Alex lets himself close his eyes and pretend this fleeting moment will last forever.
“You look weird.”
Alex lifts his eyes from the paper he’s pretending to read for law school. Henry watches him from the other end of the couch with a novel open and forgotten in his lap. His brow is furrowed but his eyes are amused, curiously searching Alex’s face.
Heat rushes through Alex’s cheeks. “I don’t look weird.”
“Yes, you do. Your face looks weird.”
“This is just my face, thank you very much—”
Henry pokes Alex’s cheek with a soft finger. “You’re frowning and you’ve been biting your lip for the past ten minutes. Why are you worried?”
Alex swallows, feeling his skin warm under Henry’s touch and scrutinizing gaze. “I’m not worried,” he murmurs, and his voice comes out softer than he intended.
Henry’s finger traces his cheek before dropping entirely. “Liar,” he says, though there’s a small smile on his lips. “But I can pretend to believe you, if you want.”
“I got you something,” Alex blurts out before he loses his nerves, feeling like all the air left in his lungs was forced out of him at once. “It’s… Uh, yeah. I got you something.”
A look of surprise passes on Henry’s face and he opens his mouth in a soft oh. “And you’re nervous about it because…? It’s not hot sauce, is it? Because I know you want to expand my spice tolerance, but I can still feel my tongue burning after that chili con carne—”
“It wasn’t even that spicy!” Alex groans, but he can already feel some of the previous tension leaving his body. Henry always knows how to calm him down, whether he realizes it or not. “And for your information, no, this isn’t about your shitty spice tolerance, though we still have a lot of work to do.”
Henry rolls his eyes in an exasperated but fond way. “What is it, then?” he asks, the intrigued glint in his eyes betraying his nonchalant tone.
Alex gulps, sobering up. “It’s in my bag,” he says as he stands up, looking around the living room. “Which should be around here somewhere—”
“Kitchen table,” Henry says without missing a beat. “You threw it there the minute you came home and headed straight for the coffee pot. I think it’s still there.”
Alex nods because, honestly, he can absolutely imagine himself doing something like that, and walks in the direction of the kitchen. He looks over his shoulder when Henry doesn’t follow suit, hands twisted in his lap and watching him carefully. “You coming?”
Henry’s lips twitch at the corners and he stands up as well, following Alex into the kitchen and leaning against the counter while Alex rummages through his bag. He knows he put it there, so it has to be here somewhere— Ah. There it is. His fingers close around the small object and he pulls it out carefully, holding the black ring in his open palm.
He knows the exact moment Henry recognizes it for what it is, when he lets out a small gasp that echoes in the room.
“I saw you were looking it up online,” Alex says softly. When he looks up at Henry again, his lips are parted and his eyes wide, arms crossed loosely on his chest as he looks between Alex’s face and his palm and back up again. “I went to the market today and there was this young couple selling jewelry, including this ring. I just…” He lets out a shaky laugh, his heart hammering in his chest. “I thought you might like it.”
Henry doesn’t say anything for a long time, still alternating between staring at the ring in Alex’s hand and Alex’s face, his eyes full of disbelief. “You got me a black ring?” he asks, and even in a whisper he sounds choked up.
Alex smiles tentatively. “If you want it.”
Henry stays silent; then after a minute, he lets his arms fall from his chest, his fingers twitching at his sides.
Alex takes a step closer to him and takes Henry’s right hand in his, slowly as to give him a chance to pull away. Henry doesn’t. Carefully, Alex lifts their joint hands and slips the simple back ring on until it sits comfortably at the base of Henry’s middle finger. A perfect fit.
“Looks like I got the size right,” he whispers with a smile.
Henry’s hands are trembling. Alex opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong, doubt creeping into him, but the words never make it past his throat when he’s suddenly pulled forward into a strong chest.
He isn’t surprised by the hug. They’ve always been affectionate with each other, leaning in close and cuddling on the couch late at night, when it’s easy to pretend they’re just too tired. No, what surprises Alex is the force with which Henry hugs him, squeezing him so tight he almost can’t breathe.
He immediately melts into Henry’s arms, figuring that breathing isn’t the most important thing in that moment.
His face fits perfectly into the crook of Henry’s neck. Alex buries his face there and wraps his arms tightly around Henry’s back, mirroring the way Henry’s hands fist the back of his shirt. Henry’s breathing is warm and steady against Alex’s ear, a soft sigh escaping his lips when Alex’s fingers trail along his spine and rest between his shoulder blades.
It feels like forever has passed – yet still not enough – when Alex feels Henry start to pull away. Regrettably, he lets his hands fall too, already mourning the loss, and takes a step back. Or, well, he tries to.
Except Henry doesn’t let him move away.
The arms around Alex’s torso loosen their tight hold and Henry lifts his head from his neck, but his hands are still resting on Alex’s back. Their faces are close enough that Alex can feel Henry’s breath on his cheeks, washing over him in soft puffs of air, and their foreheads rest against each other like they belong there.
Alex closes his eyes. They’re in uncharted waters here, the line between friendship and something else getting blurrier by the second. Alex doesn’t want to pull back. His hands find Henry’s chest, feeling his heart beating wildly under his palms. God, he so desperately doesn’t want to pull away.
Henry nudges their noses together.
“Hen,” Alex whispers, and Henry breathes out like he feels it too.
It’s impossible to stop his lips from curling upwards when Henry leans down to gently press their mouths together, taking Alex’s breath away in a split second. He stands on his tiptoes and kisses back softly, mapping every inch of Henry’s lips, grazing his teeth over Henry’s lower lip just to see what happens.
Henry makes the most beautiful little noise against him and then his hands are no longer on Alex’s back but cupping his face, cold ring against warm skin, tilting Alex’s head and holding his jaw so tenderly it might actually be a dream. He kisses and kisses and kisses until Alex’s lips are sore and his hands are twisted in Henry’s hair at the base of his skull, marveling at the softness.
It simultaneously feels like there’s no tomorrow and like they have all the time in the world.
When Alex pulls back, it’s merely a question of breathing. He’s panting against Henry’s cheek and he can’t stop smiling, brushing his thumbs on the skin behind Henry’s ear and feeling a shiver course through him.
“Finally,” Alex says quietly, giddy as he draws back.
He isn’t expecting the sadness he finds dancing in Henry’s blue eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Henry whispers, his hands still on Alex’s face but not looking him in the eyes. “I really wanted to do that.”
“Me too,” Alex hurries to say, almost getting whiplash from the sudden change in the air. “H, I wanted that too. I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”
Henry closes his eyes like it pains him to hear those words.
Alex’s heart climbs all the way up to his throat. He doesn’t understand why Henry looks so devastated. Henry kissed him – and it was a fucking brilliant kiss, the kind you see at the end of a movie that leaves two people smiling at each other like idiots. But there’s only pursed lips where Henry’s smile should be, and Alex’s hands instinctively slide down to cup his cheeks, feeling a fraction of the tension in Henry’s body slip away as he leans into the touch.
In the silence that has fallen over them, Henry’s hands fall from Alex’s face, and for a terrifying second Alex thinks he’ll push him away. Instead, he circles Alex’s wrist with shaky fingers like he’s wordlessly begging him not to let go. And it only leaves Alex all the more confused.
But he believed Henry when he said he wanted to kiss him. “Sweetheart?” he whispers, swiping his thumbs over Henry’s skin in feather-light touches. “What’s this about?”
Henry takes a shuddering breath and keeps his eyes closed. His voice is almost inaudible when he speaks again. “Alex, you should be with someone who can give you what you want.”
Alex’s heart stops for a moment, then drops to the pit of his stomach. “I am,” he says, quietly but leaving no room for debate. “Henry, I want you. Not sex, you. That’s not what that kiss was about.”
Blue eyes finally open, full of hurt and desperate hope.
“That’s what everyone says,” Henry whispers with a sad smile that breaks Alex’s heart. “Eventually, they all want more.”
White-hot anger rushes through Alex’s veins, but he forces himself to push it down. “I’m sorry you had really shitty boyfriends, H,” he says, refusing to let his anger show as he brushes his fingers over Henry’s flushed skin. “But I’m not like that. I want you because I care about you. I don’t care that we’ll never have sex, I care about being with you. If you’ll have me.”
“Alex…” Henry’s hands tighten on his wrists.
“Do you trust me?” Alex asks suddenly when Henry trails off and doesn’t continue.
Against all odds, a small, breathy laugh escapes Henry’s lips. “More than anyone.”
Alex’s face feels hot as warmth spreads in his chest. “Good. So believe me when I say this.” With a deep breath, he waits until Henry’s careful eyes meet his, still gently holding his face.
“When I say that I want you, I mean it. I want to take you on dates to fancy art galleries and cheap diners and hold your hand the whole time. I want to kiss you when you’re being a nerd, which is most of the time, because you’re so fucking beautiful when you’re talking about something you love. I want to push your hair out of your eyes and kiss your forehead when you’re having a bad day. I want you to fil this house with those stupid gingerbread candles you love so much even though they’re expensive as fuck. I want to cuddle with you on the couch and fall asleep next to you and I want to kiss you all over your face when we wake up in the morning. I want to come home to you every day because you make me feel… perfect. Safe. Everything about you feels right.”
He feels out of breath by the time he pauses and inhales a lungful of oxygen as Henry stares at him with watery eyes. “And most of all,” he continues, “I never want to make you feel like you’re not enough. Because you are everything I want.”
A long time passes before Henry says anything, so much so that doubt creeps into Alex’s mind. He catches two tears with his thumbs before they manage to roll down Henry’s cheeks and gives him the time he needs to gather his thoughts.
“That was quite the confession, love,” Henry murmurs finally with the hint of a smile on his lips.
It’s enough to crack the tension between them, and Alex lets out something between a groan and a relieved laugh. “Oh fuck you,” he says with no venom, shoving Henry’s shoulder half-heartedly. “Excuse me for trying to be romantic.”
Henry smiles wider and rests their foreheads together. “You were very romantic. And I…” He takes a deep breath, and his hands loosen their grip around Alex’s wrists, rubbing up and down his arms. “I want that too. All those things you said, I want them with you. I’ve liked you for ages, Alex.”
Alex grins and nudges their noses together. “Yeah? Me too, sweetheart.”
They pull back again to face each other, Henry’s eyes searching Alex’s extensively. “You’re really okay with this?” he asks, soft and vulnerable. “With never… What about your, uh. Needs. I can’t expect you to just—”
Alex lets out an involuntary snort. “H, I can take care of myself. I’m the one who can’t expect you to do something you’re not comfortable with just because I’m turned on. Which, yeah, it will happen sometimes, but it’s not your responsibility. Okay?”
A long exhale. “Okay,” Henry agrees, his body fully relaxed once more. Then his eyes flicker down and he smiles. “Can I kiss you again?”
Alex beams and leans in. “You don’t have to ask,” he murmurs before bringing their mouths together in another soft kiss. Henry smiles against his lips and wraps his arms around Alex’s waist, holding him close as though to never let go.
A few minutes later, when he’s tucked in a warm hug with his face hidden in Henry’s neck, Alex says, “Promise me something.”
Henry hums against him, his hand gently combing through Alex’s hair. “Anything.”
Alex breathes in Henry’s scent, fresh and sweet. “Promise me you’ll tell me if I ever do something that makes you uncomfortable. If I ever cross a line and I don’t realize it. Promise me you won’t hesitate to call me out.”
Henry’s hand stills for a moment before resuming its mission to untangle Alex’s curls. “I promise,” he whispers, squeezing Alex a little closer. “I promise, love.”
That night they fall asleep in Henry’s bed, their legs tangled together under the covers and Henry’s head resting on Alex’s chest. It’s the first night of the rest of their lives.