Work Text:
Leave, Alex. Go.
It's been 3 years, and Alex has done a wonderful job at avoiding the entire European continent. He had no interest in going back, especially after Henry explicitly told him to leave. But as the president's son, when the Queen dies, you really do have to show up to the funeral. “It's non-negotiable,” Zahra stated multiple times, ignoring Alex’s whines and protests and a 3-inch binder full of different excuses as to why his presence wasn't necessary. Sue him for refusing to go down without a fight.
The day the news dropped, Alex broke into his emergency stash of Makers, practically emptying it. If there was any time to use it, it was now. And because he's not an obtuse fucking asshole, he finds Henry's contact (no longer under HRH Prince Dickhead thanks to Nora), and he texts him for the first time since that cruel night.
To: DO NOT TEXT THIS ALEJANDRO I STG
August 22nd, 2023
3:47 am
im sorry for your loss.
when the villains fall, the kingdoms never weep. you dont have to fake it.
He never got a reply, he wasn't expecting one. Alex made the educated guess that he had been blocked years ago. But that didn't stop him from checking his phone throughout the entire 8-hour flight, nursing a glass of shitty airplane wine until Zahra ripped it out of his hands. June and Nora sat next to him, sending each other concerned looks, but neither said anything to Alex directly. They knew better. Alex was embarrassed by this whole, predicament. How could he be this worked up after 3 years? It was pathetic. It was even more pathetic that instead of anxiety about seeing Henry, he couldn't stop worrying about him. Was he okay? Is Catherine going to take over? Can she? And selfishly, does this mean he can come out? His grandmother just died for Christ's sake, and Alex can’t think about anything but himself. Henry is the one who ended it. It would be stupid to think he still loved him, still as plagued by the thoughts of Alex as Alex was with him. Stupid stupid stupid . This trip was going to be the death (poor choice of wording at the moment) of him.
Landing in London to crowds of mourners was a nauseating sight. A national period of mourning was in place. It felt dystopian. Mary’s face was fucking everywhere. People wept. It made him sick. They had no idea the bigot they were wasting their energy on. Or maybe they did, and they didn’t care. He didn’t know which was worse. And on top of it all, Alex had to pretend too. Had to shake hands and mutter “I’m sorry for your loss” to a bunch of emotional white people while pretending like the Queen’s death didn't lift a weight off his shoulders he didn't even know was there. He couldn't imagine what it was like for Henry.
Henry.
Those piercing blue eyes and swoopy blonde hair were almost as prominent as Mary's wrinkly old face. (He knows he should be speaking nice about someone who just died but really, what was the point?) His face was everywhere, and Alex could tell it was all a sham. The emotion he showed couldn't hold a candle to the Henry Alex had gotten to know. He may have inherited his father's looks, but the acting genes skipped him entirely. Or maybe Alex just knew him that well. He didn't want to think about it.
The White House Trio spent the next few days making a few public appearances, but mostly just spent time in the hotel. No one in the country really cared about the Americans, it was a time of mourning and they were just there to play along. There wasn't much to do, every TV channel had pictures of the royal family or clips of the Queen’s life, so Alex didn't really do much but mope around and pretend he wasn't losing his mind worrying about Henry.
Eventually, Alex had enough. The hotel minibar was emptied within the first 2 days and there was only so much stirring he could do before June and Nora could decide to confront him. So, with nothing but his wallet and phone and absolutely no pride, he wandered the streets of London, looking for someplace he could drown his sorrows.
He managed to find the one bar open during this time, holding a few middle-aged white men and not much else. Not quite his crowd, but it’ll do. Alex sat at the bar and ordered a whiskey neat (when was he not predictable), and got to work.
About 3 glasses in, everything started to get fuzzy in the way Alex loved. There was less whirring in his mind, just a comfortable blanket of emptiness. But when it came to thoughts of Henry, tipsy was not nearly enough. If he didn’t wake up in some random bed with no memory of the night before, what was the point? He seemed to be waking up in a lot of random beds these past few years. No one ever stuck around. Or maybe Alex never stuck around. Not the time to dwell on it.
6 glasses was officially the limit it seemed. Alex barely knew what was going on, his head resting on the sticky bar, observing the conversations around him. It was nice like this.
“Yea. It’s a shame she’s gone. Even more of a shame that we still don’t have a king.” A man slurred drunkenly. Alex huffed.
“I know. All we can hope is that Catherine cracks soon. Finally, get Phillip on the throne.” Damn, these barmen were really scum of the Earth.
“Thank God for Phillip. Really. Imagine if we were stuck with Prince Henry?” Alex was more alert now. He’ll be damned if someone spoke badly about Henry, that sentiment was reserved for him only.
“I know. Such a useless Prince. A degree in English Literature? Really? Avoiding the military? Still not married? If the media was actually honest, they would be able to report what everyone was thinking. That the Prince of England's Hearts is nothing more than a prissy little fa-”
Alex’s body reacted before his brain, and he didn’t even realize what he did until his fist was burning , and the man lay on the floor in front of him, blood streaming from his nose.
Shit. Shit. Fuck. Jesus Tits. Fuck . Zahra was gonna kill him. The first son punches a man in mourning. Not a good look. The first son being led drunkenly out of a bar in handcuffs. An even worse look. He was so, incredibly fucked.
….
The police station was exactly like the movies. Nothing but a couple of burnouts rotting in the cell with Alex. None of the officers seemed to care that he was the First Son. In fact, it seemed they hated him more than the other drunkards behind him. Fucking racists. He couldn't wait to get out of this damn country.
It felt like hours before anyone even looked his way. Alex needed to get the fuck out of there. He was practically bouncing off the walls. It was only so long before the media blew the fuck up, and it would be a lot more helpful if he was with Zahra when it happened.
“Please, sir. I’m in law school, I know I’m entitled to a phone call. Besides, wait any longer and you'll have the American government up your ass. Or arse. Whatever you posh idiots say.” Alex really needed to learn to control his mouth. This was not the place to be, well, himself.
The cop just brushed him off and went back to his desk. Alex didn’t have it in him to fight.
Another eternity passed before the officer let Alex out and dragged him to the pay phone. He didn't even make a sound, just tapped his foot and stared him down. Alex wasted no time, grabbing the phone off the hook and dialing. But he was already pressing call when he realized the number he actually punched in. The one he spent years trying to forget. He should've called Nora or June. Even Zahra would’ve been better in this situation. Why in hell would he call the one person who would make sure he stayed stranded there for life? Idiot.
“Hello?”
Alex melted at the sound. The way his accent curled around the vowels. The soothing voice he had been begging to hear for the past 3 years.
“Hello? Is anyone there? I must ask how a county jail got this number.”
“Um. Hey.” Alex muttered. What was wrong with him?
“Christ. You’re fucking joking.” Alex heard, followed by the dial tone. Shit. He didn't know what to expect, but it definitely wasn't being hung up on. What was he thinking?
He stood there, mouth agape until the officer pulled him off the phone and pushed him back into the cell. So, a second call definitely wasn't happening. And no way would Henry come to get his sad locked-up ass. Great, trapped in a cell until his mother sent the entire flock of PPOs out looking for him. Or until the media found him first. He was fucked.
And yet, he couldn't stop thinking about that voice. Alex had heard Henry speak in interviews over the years, but it was never the same. When Henry realized it was Alex, his press voice dropped. It was so beautiful. Music to his ears. Even if it was practically an insult. He would never stop loving that man as long as he lived. And he would never get him back.
Tears began flowing before Alex could stop them, backing against the wall and sliding down to the cold concrete. Crying in a jail cell? The lowest of low. The rock bottom of rock bottoms.
He couldn't control the waterworks. He cried and he cried for what felt like hours. He cried for the life they could've had, for the life he lost. He cried for Henry, for loving the one man he could never have, for the fact that Henry would forever be trapped in a life where he could never be himself. He cried for himself, for how pathetic he had been and would probably continue to be. He cried for Nora and June and his parents, who saw him at the lowest point of his life and could do nothing about it because he just pushed them away. He cried until the officer unlocked the cell and motioned to Alex, muttering something about the crown and bail and fucking Americans .
Alex wiped his face and stood up, preparing to face the wrath of Zahra or, God forbid, his mother. Somehow, the reality was much, much worse.
There was Henry, in all his 6-foot blonde royal glory. Alex had to blink and clear his eyes to make sure he hadn't conjured the man in front of him in some depression-induced fever dream. The men in the cell behind him started yelling drunkenly, the cop cleared his throat and boomed “Your Royal Highness” and Alex just stood there, jaw practically on the floor.
“You bloody menace.” Henry spat out, grabbing Alex's arm and dragging him out of the building.
He shuddered at the touch, heat shot through him immediately. Yep. Definitely not a dream.
Alex was too stunned to speak. The speed Henry was pulling made him trip over his feet, and he watched Henry grab his phone and grumble “Yeah June, I've got him.” before the alcohol and emotion caught up to him, and everything went fuzzy and then very, very dark.
…
Alex awoke to a pounding in his head and the overwhelming feeling of nausea. The night started coming back to him in pieces, but none of it really made sense. It took his eyes some time to adjust to the light before he looked around and realized where he was. Lying in the gold monstrosity he had slept in so many years ago, surrounded by his favorite smell. Clean linens and fresh grass. A coffee and two Advil on the nightstand. He could smell the cinnamon. Damnit. He was in Kensington. Henry had really picked him up last night. He got arrested last night. Motherfucker. This may very well be his last day on Earth. Zahra’s gonna kill him. Henry’s gonna kill him.
With the coffee in hand, Alex reluctantly trudged downstairs to the kitchen. Henry wasn't about to come back to bed, wrap his arms around Alex, and promise they'd be together forever. He's heartbroken, not dumb.
He rounded the corner, and there he was. Alex’s heart practically dropped through his ass.
“The felon awakes.”
Henry looked awful. Well, he looked beautiful, but the bags under his eyes had their own bags, and his cheeks were pale and hollow. His brow was furrowed. Alex wanted to smooth it out with his thumb. He gripped the mug harder instead.
“Good morning to you too.”
“The funeral is tomorrow. You need to leave.”
What the fuck? They’re not even gonna talk?
“H-”
“Leave, Alex. Go”
Bile rose in Alex’s throat. No matter how hard he pretends it's from the hangover, he knows it's from the words that have haunted him for the past 3 years. Playing on repeat in his mind. Henry was cruel to repeat them. Does he even know what he's done to him?
“So we're not even gonna talk.”
“What's there to talk about? I bailed you out of jail. You're welcome by the way. I am busy with the funeral preparations. You can't be here. Go home.”
“I know you would rather be doing anything besides funeral prep. I’m not leaving until we talk.” Alex isn't going without an explanation. How could he ever move on without some fucking clarity?
“Fine. You have 5 minutes.” Henry practically spits at him. He still hasn't looked him in the eye.
“Oh, how considerate of you. He breaks my heart and goes silent for 3 years but yay I get 5 fucking minutes to explain something that can’t even be put into words. Thanks a lot, Your Majesty. ”
“It's Your Royal Highness.”
“No shit asshole.”
“Say what you're gonna say and go, Alex.”
“God, you really know how to make a boy feel special. What even am I supposed to say, Henry? That I’m furious you had the audacity to let me go? That my heart still hurts every time I think of you? That no matter what I do, the outcome will always be you? Because I can’t say that Henry. You already fucking know that. And yet you let us go. You stayed in your tower and you let me suffer and you didn’t give a passing thought about how my walls were crumbling without you steadying them. All because you were too afraid to let yourself be happy. And the worst part is, even though you’ve hurt me in ways no one else has before, I still completely fucking love you. Hell, I went to jail for you. How fucking stupid can I possibly be?”
Henry’s looking at him now. Staring at him dumbly. He wanted to wipe that stupid look off his face immediately. Alex poured his heart out and he got the personality of a cardboard box in return.
“Oh, Alex. I never pegged you as stupid but this, this is a new low. I thought you knew me better than that.”
Alex blinked.
“This was never about hurting you. And more importantly, it was never about protecting myself. Sure, maybe at first it was. Maybe I refused to accept that I could have a life outside the one that was forced upon my shoulders. But when I sent you away, it wasn’t for anything except keeping your heart safe. Do you think this has been easy for me? Do you think I sent you off and then just lived my life the same way I always had? I am nothing without you. I have lost myself. You were my light at the end of the tunnel. But I couldn’t do that to you. I wanted you to have all of me, and it wasn’t possible with the life I lived. I couldn’t subject you to that. To half a life. It wasn’t fair. You deserved to be happy, and you couldn’t be if you stayed with me. That’s why I did it, you fucking asshole. I’m offended that you would assume anything else.”
Oh. Oh. Fuck. If that didn’t stop Alex in his tracks.
Henry took a deep breath, and asked one last question. “You got arrested, for me ?”
“Yea asshole. Some bigoted middle aged white man said some, not tasteful things about you. I just snapped.”
Alex couldn't discern the look in Henry's eyes, maybe a mix of gratitude and anger, but he went on.
“So it seems like we’re both idiots. You just assumed you were making the right choice? Without talking to me first? Henry, I’d choose a life in the shadows with you over freedom without you any day. How could you not see that? It was never the quality of life I longed for. It was you. It was time with you, in any way you would have me. When I told my mom about us, she told me I could only continue with you if I was sure I felt forever about you. You are my forever Henry. You always have been. You always will be. No matter if I’m by your side or not. No corner of the Earth would be far enough to make me forget you.”
"The Earth doesn't have corners."
"Funny."
“Alex.” Henry took a deep breath in. Alex doesn’t think he’s ever seen him this exhausted. But he continued.
“Nothing I say will ever make up for the pain I caused you. But just know, you haven’t been alone in it. I would be a complete fool if I didn’t tell you that I still love you too. I will never not love you. And I don’t expect you to forgive me, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself. But, god, I miss you. I miss you more than life itself. I haven’t taken a proper breath since I let you go. And if you let me, I’ll spend our entire lives apologizing to you for it. My love for you is stronger than anything life will throw our way. God Alex, I fucking love you. I’m so sorry.”
Alex was speechless. Henry was the only person on Earth who could shut him up. He didn’t mind it. His words failed him, so he did what he does best. Acted on it.
Alex walked around the island, grabbed Henry by the face, and kissed him. He kissed him desperately. He kissed him like he was coming up for air for the first time. He kissed him like the world was ending and this was the last thing he could do. He kissed him like he was home. Because he was. He was finally home.
After an eternity, Henry pulled away. There was something equally as beautiful about them resting their foreheads together, breathing each other's air.
“So. Our entire lives? Are you alluding to something, baby?” Alex smirked, and he could feel Henry’s hold on his waist getting tighter.
“You went to jail for me. You bloody idiot. Darling, you must know I am never letting you go again. It’s you and me forever.”
September 30th, 2023
BBC News: FSOTUS AND PRINCE HENRY ANNOUNCE ENGAGEMENT AFTER SURPRISE RELATIONSHIP ANNOUNCEMENT, WEDDING TO TAKE PLACE AT THE PALACE EARLY NEXT YEAR WITH QUEEN CATHERINE AND POTUS FULL SUPPORT.