Work Text:
May 2015
They'd all known Henry was nominated and even gave him endless shit when he voted for himself for the hell of it, but they truly didn't expect him to win. The honor is unofficially reserved for student body presidents and star quarterbacks, but his sweet, soft-spoken boyfriend beat the odds and was voted prom king.
The loose arm Alex had wrapped around Henry's waist drops in disbelief to clap like a dope as the news sinks in. He grins with unrestrained pride then presses a kiss to Henry's rosy cheek with an "I love you, you fucking earned this, baby." A gobsmacked Henry lingers in Alex's orbit as he gets hugged by Pez and Nora - fingertips stretching like they're glued to Alex's burgundy suit jacket - until some random kid claps his shoulder in excitement and startles him.
Unfortunately, Texas is still Texas no matter how progressive their student body is. The odds of Alex being the other prom royal are practically non-existent, but that doesn't mean Henry doesn't deserve recognition for how adored he is by their fellow classmates.
Henry has built up a reputation as the guy that goes out of his way to help, whether it's tutoring half of the juniors through IB and AP English or giving people a jump when their mom's hand-me-down minivan refuses to start after school or volunteering to be the piano accompanist for the school choir and becoming the de facto shoulder to cry on for countless sopranos - not to mention being president of the GSA and his countless hours of volunteer work at a local LGBTQ community center.
He's wonderful and popular and very fucking gay, so after a warm swell of applause and a short victory lap to the center of the dance floor, everyone waits in tense anticipation for the prom queen to be announced and for the unfortunate mismatch when Henry dances with her and not his equally popular boyfriend.
The man himself is dressed in bold royal blue - statuesque and far more put together than one would expect from a teenager attending prom. His gleaming silver watch is one of his dad's, and Alex selected a red carnation for Henry's boutonnière as another subtle nod to Arthur. He watches as he is crowned and Henry's elegant hand wraps around his own wrist to lovingly stroke the watch face once with his thumb. Only Alex and Henry know precisely how much that silent gesture means to him.
Nora and Pez close in on Alex, draping their arms all over him so they're more of a single entity. She wipes away a tear on his face and punches his shoulder. "You've gotta play it cool if you want any chance of winning next year, Alejandro."
Pez gleefully adds, "Our dearest Countess Mary just experienced joy for the first time since Thatcher was in office." After a glimpse of Alex's lost expression, Pez rolls his eyes and explains, "Keep up, darling. We took the boy out of the monarchy but couldn't take the monarchy out of the boy."
Alex laughs loudly and Henry does a double take, finding him in the crowd and gifting him a lovesick grin.
Amber Forrester, head of the prom committee, clears her throat and beams when she announces the prom queen.
Nora hollers by his ear and pumps her fist in the air as she shouts all sorts of playful trash talk like she's a fucking WWE wrestler. Henry is noticeably relieved that Nora has won and snickers when a chaperone gives her a stern warning look.
"Play it cool, Holleran," Alex mimics.
"Suck my prom queen dick, Alejandro."
Nora strides to Henry and is her own hype woman as she goes. She is popular in a completely different way. Eclectic and chaotic and frequently the life of the party. Much more similar to Alex's social brand.
The tacky crown is placed on her head. She tilts her head up just a fraction to kiss Henry on the cheek before she whispers something in his ear.
Henry's eyes go wide with hope and he nods his head rapidly before he glances at Alex.
Nora whips around and calls out, "Alex, get your ass up here!"
The chaperone snaps, "Language, Miss Holleran!"
It's drowned out by the soft chorus of aww's that ring through the softly lit hotel ballroom. Henry and Alex are the quintessential high school sweethearts; they've earned that saccharine reaction fair and square.
Alex stumbles onto the cleared dance floor - not noticing much besides Henry's sweet, beautiful face.
Nora steps aside then plops the Party City crown on his head. "I fully expect to be best man at your wedding."
He hugs her - hates that her heels make her much taller than him - and to be a little shit, he replies, "I thought you said marriage is a restrictive, heteronormative prison for unimaginative losers."
"And someday you two losers are gonna get married despite my warnings." She slaps his ass and pushes him into Henry's arms. "You owe me too, Fox."
Henry nods then smiles down at him. The moment feels private even though they're the focus of the few hundred students present.
"Hi, love," he greets in a shaky voice.
"Hey, sweetheart," Alex responds and tilts up for a chaste kiss, sweet as honey.
The music kicks on - David Bowie's "Heroes", which feels too on the nose and overly mature for the occasion - and Henry threads his elegant fingers between Alex's callussed ones and cues him to lead when he drapes his other hand on his shoulder.
Henry bows his head so their foreheads touch but leaves enough room for Jesus so the chaperones won't bark at them.
That lasts for about five seconds before Alex closes the gap between them and presses his face into Henry's neck to sneak kisses just over his collar.
Jesus can fuck right off. Why would he want to dance between two teenagers anyway? It's a stupid saying.
As they begin to sway, Henry teases, "Well, this certainly feels familiar. Although, you're much taller now."
Alex tilts his head back and groans, "Shut uuup. Why would you even bring that up right now?"
Henry laughs brightly, familiar muscles contracting beneath Alex's palm. "Love, don't tell me you didn't notice we're right where we started."
August 2012
"What?! You can't invite him!" a fourteen year old Alex squawks, half-climbing over the back of the couch to protest.
June glares at him from the dining table where she's compiling the guest list. Dad is intrigued by Alex's passionate disapproval.
"He's my friend," she reasons slowly.
"And my enemy."
She rolls her eyes. "In case you forgot, this is my quinceañera. Deal with it, shortstack. He's invited."
He crosses his arms and whines, "How can you even be friends with someone like him?"
"Easy. I have taste and you don't."
Oscar chokes on a sip of water then waves his hands to settle them down. "She's right, mijo. Her party, her rules."
He sinks back into the couch so they can't see him pout.
Henry Last Name-Fancy Last Name-Fancier Last Name is the closest thing he has to a nemesis ever since he asked for "someone else, anyone else" to give his welcome tour of O. Henry Middle School two years ago.
He hasn't bumped into him much since, but it had stung that Henry immediately froze him out when all he was trying to do was help. They later shared an elective history class which Henry sulked through and exclusively spoke up in when Alex was going mano-a-mano with their bigoted dinosaur of a teacher like some unnecessary knight in shining armor.
So yeah. He doesn't like the guy, and everyone else on the planet seems to think he's god's gift to mankind. That and everyone is obsessed with the fucking accent and his stupid prettyboy face.
Alex is one of the seven boys in June's quinceañera court - completely unavoidable and expected as her younger brother. He hopes being in the court will keep him busy enough to avoid Henry at the party in a few months, and if it doesn't, he can make up an excuse about chambelán duties if Henry decides to approach (not that it's likely considering how eager he was to get away the first time they met).
In a few short weeks, he's dragged away from playing FIFA with Liam to rehearse for June's divorce-delayed quinceañera in the garage. To get through the ordeal, he plans to demolish the smorgasbord of snacks Dad has set out for all of them (the divorce guilt comes in handy sometimes) and sit back while June hangs out with her friends. That hope is violently crushed when one Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor is dropped off at two-fifteen on the dot, looking nervous and a little green.
"Oh my god," Alex groans loudly, yanking June away by the arm and complaining loudly. "He's in the court too?! Do you not care that he's my nemesis?"
June smirks. "No. I don't."
"Wait, is he Enrique?" He'd seen the lists and arrangements and wondered who the hell that could've been. The rest of the chambelanes of the court are no surprise: three of their cousins, Evan from yearbook that June not is not-so-secretly crushing on, Pez from student council who's in a similar situation as Evan, and the mysterious Enrique acting as "chambelán de honor."
"Yeah," June snorts. "My dad thought he was being funny because he's the whitest kid he's ever met and started calling him that. It kind of stuck."
"Er, hello," Henry greets bashfully from the top of the driveway, arms held at his side like he doesn't know what to do with them.
"Hi," Alex spits like an accusation. "We were talking."
"Oh my god, ignore him." June shoves Alex's face away and leaves him to hug Henry hello.
"Pez is on his way as well. We're both very excited about this." Henry looks terrified, actually, and Alex is about to point it out, but June stomps on his toes to shut him up preemptively.
"Sorry about him," June says to Henry. "We're pretty sure he's part chihuahua."
Alex opens his mouth again to protest and Henry snorts. Now this fucking guy is laughing at him? In his house? Where he lives?
"We've met once or twice," Henry states with a quick, nervous glance at Alex. "We had a class together my first year here."
"Oh, you did? That is brand new information," June lies unconvincingly.
Henry perks up. "Yes, there was a mix-up with my schedule and my counselor filled the gap with an elective American history class - a horrible experience but watching you eviscerate Mr. Richards was thrilling," he says to Alex. "In fact, I learned more from you than I ever did from him."
Alex gapes for a moment and without a lick of context replies, "Our parents are in politics."
What he meant to say was "Our parents have dealt with politicians like Mr. Richards since before we were born and made sure we knew our shit and how to shut down assholes like him", but Henry's compliment poked a hard reset button in his brain and it is too busy recontextualizing Henry's participation in that godawful class to make his speech center work correctly.
He remembers a particularly heated discussion about immigration and the great Americam melting pot, and while it had felt like Henry was talking over him and his experience as a proud grandchild of undocumented immigrants, he had lowkey forgotten that Henry was a recent immigrant and had valuable information to provide in the ongoing fight against Mr. Richards.
His contributions to the discussion stayed respectfully clear of Alex's points about exploitative migrant labor practices and dehumanizing conditions at the southern border and instead detailed the bureaucratic nightmare that's still present for immigrants that "do it the right way" (as Mr. Richard's kept parroting), which segued Alex into his next point about how blatantly discriminatory the immigration process is with regard to which immigrants and asylum seekers are seen as desirable. Henry - while shy - always nodded along when he spoke and defended his right to speak when Mr. Richards threatened to kick him out of the classroom (a regular occurence).
It pains him to admit it, but Henry reliably stayed in his lane and consistently fed him the perfect talking points to keep lobbing arguments at Mr. Richards. Almost like it was on purpose - like it was "thrilling."
Ugh.
He may be wrong about this one thing, but the fact remains that Henry hated him from the second they met. Their feud lives another day.
After a prolonged awkward pause, June suggests, "Hey Alex, why don't you go by the snacks, chill out, and come back when you're normal again?"
"I'm fucking normal," he huffs.
Henry bites back a smile and actually he is gonna hang out by the snacks before he swings on Henry for laughing at him again.
Though he be but little, he is fierce.
He hears June say to Henry that she had Dad pick up his favorite chips - kettle cooked and lightly salted which feels like an appropriately boring choice - so he douses an unwise amount of them in lime juice and hot sauce to try and polish them off before Henry can get his hands on them. You know… normal behavior.
Pez and Nora arrive next and together - which is kinda weird but he's got other fish to fry. Pez takes to his ulcer-inducing concoction and it's gratifying to use Henry's own best friend against him to eat all of his boring ass chips.
Normal, normal, normal.
He's eventually able to lift his mood when his cousins are dropped off. They all hang by Dad's collection of abandoned outdoor gear, and he has fun reminiscing and watching June get flustered around Evan.
The rest of the girls take forever to arrive. He's met most of them before and doesn't really care to socialize with them. All he knows is that he's been paired off with the shortest one because June refused to partner Nora with anyone but the chambelán de honor. Now that he knows it's Henry, he's even more pissed off that he doesn't get to be Nora's partner, even if she is almost half a foot taller than him.
Speaking of, that asshole has been deep in conversation with his sister for like fifteen minutes. He gets that he's got important chambelán duties to run through but come on.
Nora dances her fingernails over the back of his neck which makes him squawk, attracting the attention of everyone present.
"Whaddup, pipsqueak?" She's brought along Pez, and Alex does not appreciate the short jokes in front of near strangers.
"Oh my god," he mutters.
"You've got that scary obsessive look." She imitates his face and comes off looking like a baby passing gas. "Had to see what that's all about."
"I do not," he objects.
"Is it Henry? I bet it's Henry. Can't let that shit go, can you?"
He feels his face get hot and he glances at Pez, who looks delighted even though they're talking about his best friend.
Nora keeps going. "All I know is you've got this glint in your eye like you're about to plunge the depths of the internet for that boy's Social Security number."
His grudge has lost some of its hold on his psyche but he still grumbles, "It's because I need to study the enemy."
Pez grins and shakes his acid green head. "Oh babe, you haven't got a clue, do you?"
"What."
Nora tilts her head like she's studying him then nudges Pez's shoulder. "Told you."
"Told him what?" he yelps. Nora and Pez are conveniently summoned by June, and as they're sauntering away with identical smirks, he repeats, "Told him what?!"
His cousins silently glance at each other then snicker. The nearest one says, "Bro, your ex is way funnier than you made her sound."
"Heard that!" Nora winks at the cousin then goes back to her conversation with June.
He slumps back into a camping chair - annoyed with literally everyone in the garage - and impatiently waits for the rehearsal to actually start.
When they finally manage to rehearse June's grandiose waltz number, it unravels catastrophically. June realizes her ambitions were far too high, so she scales back and tests their baseline dance skills.
Henry is up first as head chambelán. He waltzes like he was born to do it, almost like he's been plucked out of one of the classic movies his mom secretly hoards in her office. His movements are smooth, refined, graceful, and he can't help the sting of jealousy that Henry is so good at it.
He's begrudgingly studying Henry's footwork when June says, "Can we just agree that you should teach everyone else how to do that so no one breaks my toes?"
Henry looks around and notices everyone is watching avidly. His cheeks go pink and Alex thinks it's funny and kind of adorable that his blood vessels do so much of the talking for him.
He nods and teaches them all one at a time while the rest of them kick back and laugh about how bad they all were. Alex admits he can see the massive improvement in everyone's waltzing abilities.
Alex is saved for last. The girls are occupying the main space because they've collectively decided to move on and pick a song for the baile sorpresa, so they find a hidden spot behind the cars in the driveway.
Henry's cheeks look like Pepto Bismol is flowing through his veins, and Alex can't figure out if he's embarrassed to be around him or what. Frankly, he's a bit too busy being annoyed by how much taller Henry is than him. His nemesis must be pushing six feet, and he's a late bloomer that's still shorter than his sister (which is really saying something).
"I - er - I suppose we can start here."
Henry holds out his hands like he has for the other members of the court, and even though he's much taller, Alex notices and appreciates that he's letting him lead.
Alex slips his palm into his, surprised by how icy yet soft Henry's hands are, then keeps a sure hold on his waist.
Henry clears his throat but it doesn't soothe the unusual tightness in his voice. "Have you ever danced with a partner before?"
"No."
Alex feels embarrassed by how little he knows about dancing to music that doesn't contain a Lil Jon ad lib. Despite the liberal presence of lyrics with the root word "fuck", his taste feels childish in comparison. If he had to guess, he'd say Henry exclusively listens to music predating electricity.
"That's fine if you haven't." Henry seems oddly pleased about that. Probably because it's something else he can lord over him. "Just give it a go. Move me how you think you should and I'll follow."
Henry begins to quietly and repeatedly mutter "one, two, three, one, two, three" under his breath. He tries to copy Henry's smooth footwork and knows he must be really concentrating because he's sticking out the tip of his tongue. Henry does a good job at keeping his toes out of danger and warns him when they stray close to the parked cars.
It's easier than he thought but he's not particularly graceful. They dance for nearly a minute before Alex looks up through his eyelashes and asks, "Sooo are you gonna give me any pointers? Like should I just dance in silence with her or -"
Henry is staring and has an odd, dazed look on his face. The dork physically shakes himself out of it and stops counting.
"So sorry. We can talk. That's - er - typical." Henry clears his throat again and goes pink again. "Try to be lighter on your toes to soften your steps. You don't need to be so shy about gripping my waist; it helps me discern which direction to go in."
Alex holds him more firmly and gives it another shot. His gaze is once again glued to the ground.
"Eyes up, Alex," Henry advises quietly. "You won't be able to see your feet through her dress."
He stares straight at Henry's surprisingly broad chest because he refuses to crane his neck up. He's a short king with dignity.
He eventually throws Henry a bone and asks, "So how did you and June become friends anyway? Like why are you the head chambelán?"
Henry hums softly as he thinks. "Truthfully, I'm surprised June didn't choose Evan, but my theory is that she wanted someone less complicated. We were assigned partners in Home Economics my first semester of high school. The class was an utter disaster but we had loads of fun."
Alex's calf bumps against the hitch of Dad's Jeep, and he half-heartedly glares at Henry. "So you're the guy that can't cook for shit."
"Despite my earnest effort." Henry steers them away from obstacles with an apologetic grimace.
"That's nice to know you're not good at everything," Alex says without thinking.
"Hardly." Henry hesitates for a moment then jokes, "But most things, yes."
He rolls his eyes but not in a particularly mean way. "How'd you learn how to waltz then? Other quinceañeras?"
Henry snorts. "This will be my first time attending one. My grandmother is very traditional, which means I was raised learning heaps of outdated, old money skills. Incidentally, she is the primary reason my family fled the country."
Alex nods then boasts, "My nana taught me how to open beer bottles with a dollar bill."
Henry laughs loudly. Alex likes how he can feel his muscles jump under his hand. "That's far more useful."
They dance for a few more beats before Henry sticks out his chin and asks, "Why don't you like me?"
Alex bites his lip and stares back at their feet. "When you moved here, I volunteered to do your school welcome tour. Do you remember?"
Henry pulls away slightly, creating more distance between them so it's easier to see his face. "I… Yes. Sorry."
There's a long few seconds as Henry relives the memory. The corner of his mouth pinches and he exhales shakily before he says, "If I tell you something, will you promise not to repeat it? June knows, but I don't want it to become common knowledge."
Alex glances up, won over by his sincerity and vulnerability. "Okay. I promise."
His strong arms pull him in so they're the closest they've been yet - not quite a hug but nearly there.
"My dad was diagnosed with stage three cancer a week or so after we moved here."
"Oh." Alex swallows and croaks, "I'm so sorry."
He sees their sudden proximity for what it is, hugs Henry back, and feels some of the tension in Henry's body dissipate.
"It's not an excuse, but I wasn't handling it well at all. And I remember… You were so excited and passionate, and everything - you, the move, the diagnosis, my family - was too much to handle." Henry runs his thumb over the back of his clasped hand. "I'm sorry that I was rude."
Alex echoes the soothing motion. "That's okay, um… Your dad dropped you off though, right? He's okay?"
That shocks a laugh out of Henry and he pulls away a fraction. "That was my brother Philip. He'll hate that you thought he was old enough to be my father."
"Shit, my bad."
"No need for apologies. He's not a particularly nice person." Henry grimaces. "Not to me anyway. To answer your other question, Dad's still with us but he… well, it's stage four now and - ah - the treatments -"
"Hey, it's okay. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. We're cool." He tilts his head up and smiles crookedly. Neither of them are dancing anymore - haven't been for a while. "I can sorta see why June likes you."
"Thank you for your glowing approval," Henry drawls. He drums his fingers on his shoulder. "Do you want to learn how to twirl her?"
"Hell yeah. I'm gonna make her hurl for making me do this."
They can't help their giggles when Henry repeatedly ducks under his arm to spin, all gangly limbs and pink cheeks. After a few tries, Alex has it down.
Before they call it and head back, Alex warns, "FYI, June has a crush on the other guys in the court that aren't related to her. So - you know - you're in the danger zone."
"That won't be a problem." Henry blushes again (seriously, does this guy have a condition?) which makes it harder to believe him. "June's not the type of person I'm interested in, and she knows it."
Alex half-jokes, "Why not? Are you racist or something?"
"I'm gay," Henry answers with an amused huff.
Without missing a beat, Alex kisses his teeth in mock disappointment and drawls, "Dodging the question, I see."
Henry rolls his eyes and can't help but smile. "You're a menace."
"Well, you're not beating the racism allegations with that attitude."
Henry sighs, "You are the thistle in the tender and sensitive arse crack of my life."
"Thanks!" He grins and is surprised at how much he likes getting under Henry's skin. It's effortless and fun and he's a surprisingly good sport.
June calls for them from the garage and they both jump apart. Henry quickly leans back in and mutters, "Me being gay, that's not common knowledge either, so -"
"Oh my god, just because I don't shut up doesn't mean I'm gonna tell everyone your business, Henry."
Henry nods once and points behind him. "We should get back to it, then."
"Full disclosure since we're being honest? I ate all your potato chips out of spite," Alex confesses.
Henry shakes his head fondly and a tendril of silky blond hair falls across his forehead. "Good Lord. You are truly something else."
"I was hangry."
"I'll pretend that's what that means... And - erm - thank you for not making a big deal out of me coming out. That doesn't happen very often."
"Love is love, bro." He says in a jockish voice and claps Henry's shoulder like his dad does to him except he really has to reach for it.
Henry laughs again. He's got a nice laugh come to think of it.
They spend the next hour practicing their choreography to Chayanne then Bruno Mars, and Alex gets a kick out of watching Henry lift June in the air by the waist about a hundred times.
When Henry takes a well-deserved break, Alex corners him and opens an ice cold bottle of Coke with a rolled-up dollar bill just to prove he wasn't bluffing (and to make up for the lack of potato chips). He does it again with a bottle of Sidral Mundet so Henry can try both. If June is giving him suspicious looks, he's more than happy to ignore her to introduce Henry to more Mexican treats.
He especially takes joy in the faces Henry makes when he tries any of the spicy candies he offers and pretends to like them. Pez sneaks away as well so he can watch Henry humiliate himself via his spice tolerance, and together, the three of them devour all the sliced mango and cucumber in a cool five minutes.
They round out the rehearsal with a final practice of the extended waltz number now that they've all been coached by Henry.
When Alex is dancing with June in the center of a circle made up of the rest of the court, she whispers, "He really likes you, you know. Respects you for unfathomable reasons."
"Henry?" He nearly turns to look at him but restrains himself.
"Who else?" She rolls her eyes. "Be his friend if you want, but I'll kill you if you hurt him."
He narrows his eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be on my side? I'm your brother - your flesh and blood."
She crushes his toes on purpose and he yelps. "That was a warning shot."
"Okay, okay. Jesus, Bug." Alex focuses on waltzing and even practices a few spins because she's far closer to his height. "We're cool now. It was all a big misunderstanding."
"Honestly, though? I've always thought you two would be a good match." She smiles softly. "You'll see once you really get to know him."
That night, Alex looks up Henry on every social media platform imaginable but he's nowhere to be found. He's just about to surrender and go to bed at an ungodly hour when a text from an unknown number comes in.
There's a picture of Chief Chirpa from Return of the Jedi and below it reads:
This bloke looks like you.
This is Henry, by the way.
Alex grins and screams into his pillow. He sends back a picture of a saltine cracker with sloppily scribbled yellow hair and two blue dots for eyes.
two can play at that game asshole
He adds Henry to his contacts and adds an indecipherable keysmash of emojis at the end.
I hope you don't mind that I asked June for your number.
ur fine
i like that you asked :)
For once, Alex tries to let things play out and not overthink in his whirlwind of a brain. There's a nagging voice that wishes Henry had asked him directly but it's too late. Either way, Henry wanted and got his number and it makes him feel… special?
The smothered freakout persists in the back of his consciousness for weeks, especially around Henry. They text each other constantly between weekly quinceañera rehearsals - where Henry once lends him an impossibly soft jacket even though he's at his own house. It's a good thing they never bump into each other at school or else they'd never get anything accomplished.
Alex tells Henry things no one else knows and Henry does the same. He meets Henry's lovely sister and dickhead brother and learns that his mom is a bit of a ghost. He learns Henry is weird and insanely smart and funny in a surprisingly dark way and so fucking brave.
The pictures Henry sends feel like thirst traps, even though he is fully clothed and only going about his business. One lovely lunch period, he receives a selfie of Henry showing off the Jaffa Cakes stashed in his packed lunch while off at a choir competition in San Antonio, and something about his wind-tousled hair (and his cheeky, boyish smile and the relaxed crinkle of his eyes and the splash of freckles on his nose and, and, and - ) makes him stop mid-bite and put his head in his hands.
It all comes to a head in October when Henry pulls him aside to fix his pocket square and kisses him in front of a tucked-away altar to St. Clare and St. Francis only minutes before June's quinceañera Mass. And again when Alex drags him off to a dark red storage room at the party venue and they suck face under a painting of an old Founding Father-looking white man. And again when Alex teaches Henry how to dance to "Get Low" and wiggles his hips for him with a firm grip that feels like a searing brand on Henry's skin.
He doesn't know what he is, but he knows he likes Henry and Henry likes him and the feeling is exhilarating.
Alex takes initiative only minutes later and asks him out by the towering cake. It makes Henry sway like a fucking damsel and knock over the top tier of June's cake, painting them in baby pink buttercream. After the figurative and literal dressing down, Henry proposes a bougie French bakery with "divine apricot tarts and profiteroles" and a showing of "A New Hope" for their first date. The rest is history.
Which brings them back to the present.
Ethereal blue lights and intimate whispers and we can be heroes just for one day.
Henry sings along terribly - one of the few things he's not good at despite his close proximity to singers - and Alex makes a point to twirl him a few times because he no longer has to hop for his arm to clear his head.
They've both grown immensely (Alex from 5'-1" to 5'-8" and counting; Henry from a shy, neurotic thing to prom king apparently), and he can't wait to see what the future holds for them. Henry is off to study English Literature and Creative Writing at Columbia in the fall, and Alex plans to attend NYU for their International Relations program the following year. Alex is president-elect of the student council, and Henry has a damn near full ride after his heartwarming poem about coming out to his dying father went viral and won a national youth poetry award.
It's good. They're good.
"Hey," Alex breathes. He thinks of all their triumphs and hardships and of Henry's resilience and deep well of grief and all-encompassing, unconditional love. He lightly flicks the cheap plastic crown. "You won."
Henry kisses him, right on the cusp of earning a chaperone's reprimand. "Yeah. We won."
Alex spins his love again, sure that they'll meet back here in a year for his own senior prom. Whether or not he'll be prom king remains to be discovered, but Bowie sings we can be heroes forever and ever and he knows that Henry is right - they've already won.