Work Text:
The email arrives on a non-descript Thursday, a little more than two years after Alex stormed Kensington Palace and the trajectory of Henry’s life changed forever.
From: [email protected]
Subject: A little light reading
Attachment: AGCDBlogspotArchive.zip
Hey baby,
Did I ever tell you I had a blog as a teen? Found this while migrating files to my new Macbook.
Enjoy :)
xx,
A
Ps: Ludwig Von Beethoven to his immortal beloved:
My heart overflows with a longing to tell you so many things — Oh — there are moments when I find that speech is quite inadequate.
With a quick text, Henry verifies that the attachment is legit. He opens it to find a series of HTML pages, once upon emblazoned with the Blogspot logo, now containing broken image links, but nonetheless recognizable.
The first entry is nearly 15 years old.
November 16, 2010
Dear Henry,
This feels dumb. Is this dumb? Am I dumb?
My dumb therapist gave me homework, telling me I needed to start journaling, and she suggested I pretend I’m writing a letter, but I don’t want to write to someone I actually know, so I chose you.
I saw your picture in my sister’s magazine. You look cool. So, here we are.
Anyway.
I’m supposed to just start by telling you about my day.
It was dumb.
This is dumb.
Two weeks ago, the Republicans took control of the House of Representatives with the largest turnover of seats in over 60 years. I’m sure that means nothing to you, but trust me. It sucks and I hate it.
Ok, this still feels dumb. Talk to you later.
Alex
Henry keeps reading, amazed at both how much and how little his boyfriend has changed.
March 21, 2011
Dear Henry,
IT’S BIRTHDAY WEEK!
Six days until I’m 13. No longer a child. And that means the warning label on red bull doesn’t apply to me anymore! Look out, ma, I’m not going to sleep all summer!
I hope you had a good birthday on the 12th. I read that you’re a Pisces and June told me I’m an Aries. Water and fire. Makes sense. You seem pretty chill, and well. I’m not.
Anyway. Talk to you soon. Possibly while in a caffeine-induced fugue-state. :D
Alex
Things get a bit dark the year Alex is 14.
October 18, 2012
Dear Henry,
I’m sorry I haven’t written in awhile. Everything sucks and I hate it here. This feels dumb again.
My parents split up.
My brain feels like angry static. By the time I get home from school, my ears feel like they’re stuffed with spicy cotton balls and all I want to do is curl up under the covers and forget the world exists. Do you ever feel like that? Everything I see about you on the internet makes it look like you lead this perfect life but that’s impossible. Nothing good lasts. Everything is temporary but pain. Love is a scam, and I’m not falling for it ever.
I’m sorry I’m so negative. I start seeing a new therapist - a family therapist - next week. Maybe that will help, because Henry, I’m really struggling.
Sad,
Alex
Thanks to a good therapist, Alex rallies - somewhat - making it to his senior year of high school.
December 22, 2015
Dear Henry,
Holy shit.
I think I fucked up.
Last night, I kissed my best friend. We both had a couple of beers, and then one thing led to another and we got each other off. It was, actually, pretty awesome. Except.
Liam. His name is Liam.
I’m so fucking confused.
I’ve gone on dates with girls before. Kissed girls before. And it’s been great! I just don’t even know which way is up right now. Do you even get to go on dates? Do Princes have royal dating dilemmas?
I wish there was someone I could talk to about this. Sorry blog-Henry, you’re just not cutting it right now.
Alex
Henry’s heart aches, reading about Alex’s struggles with his hookups with Liam. It’s a theme woven throughout his entire school year.
And then, it’s the summer of 2016. Henry sees there’s still another couple of entries, and he braces himself, knowing what’s next.
August 3, 2016
Dear Henry,
I am SO FUCKING EXCITED. We just got to Rio. That’s right - RIO DE JANEIRO where the Olympics start in two days.
We had the BEST tacos tonight and Ma bought me a cerveza and the sunset from our balcony is so incredible, I wish I could share it with you.
It’s funny that I say that though, because I know you’re here too. I saw it on Twitter.
I really hope I get to meet you. I know I’m just a nobody to you, but I’ve really looked up to you, and you’ve really helped me over the last 6 years. I really want to tell you this and thank you.
Boa noite, Henrique!
Alexandre
PS: That means ‘good night, Henry’ in Brazilian Portuguese. But I bet you knew that because you seem so smart and cool.
Henry stares at his computer screen, chewing his bottom lip. There’s no more entries. The rest, sadly, is history.
He wants to text Alex. But what would he say?
He sits in silence as his laptop dims.
The screen has almost gone to sleep, when inspiration strikes. Henry hits print - printing every entry from Alex’s blog. He sorts through them, picking out a few, and with pen in hand starts to write.
November 16, 2010
Dear Henry,
This feels dumb. Is this dumb? Am I dumb?
My dumb therapist gave me homework, telling me I needed to start journaling, and she suggested I pretend I’m writing a letter, but I don’t want to write to someone I actually know, so I chose you.
I saw your picture in my sister’s magazine. You look cool. So, here we are.
Anyway.
I’m supposed to just start by telling you about my day.
It was dumb.
This is dumb.
Two weeks ago, the Republicans took control of the House of Representatives with the largest turnover of seats in over 60 years. I’m sure that means nothing to you, but trust me. It sucks and I hate it.
Ok, this still feels dumb. Talk to you later.
Alex
Dear 12-year old Alex,
Thank you for choosing me to write to. I assure you, nothing about this - in fact, nothing about you - is dumb. Quite the opposite. You are one of the absolute smartest people I know.
It takes a lot of courage to see a therapist. I would know - it took me a lot longer than you - and even then, it didn’t stick until, well, until long after I met you, and I finally saw the brightly lit path in front of me.
13-year old me would have been chuffed to have been chosen as your diary pal. He may have seemed cool, based on what you saw in that magazine, but I know he would have thought you - in all of what you probably thought was ordinary or boring - were the coolest of them all.
I’m sorry your day was dumb. But, knowing you, I can intuit it was a day where you didn’t feel like you were able to meaningfully participate in school, or the like, because you always have been a bit advanced in your knowledge, or your perspective, and combined with your lack of patience, that makes life a fair bit frustrating sometimes. Unfortunately, this means that lots of days are going to feel dumb for you, but the thing is - you are not your accomplishments at school, or work. You are who you love, the community you foster, and the light of so many peoples’ lives.
Your friend,
Henry
PS: “Don't you know things can change?
Things'll go your way
If you hold on for one more day
Can you hold on for one more day?
T hings'll go your way
H old on for one more day.”
Wilson Phillips; 1990
PPS: I recognize quoting Wilson Phillips is tragically uncool. Just because I was once cool, does not mean that I still am.
March 21, 2011
Dear Henry,
IT’S BIRTHDAY WEEK!
Six days until I’m 13. No longer a child. And that means the warning label on red bull doesn’t apply to me anymore! Look out, ma, I’m not going to sleep all summer!
I hope you had a good birthday on the 12th. I read that you’re a Pisces and June told me I’m an Aries. Water and fire. Makes sense. You seem pretty chill, and well. I’m not.
Anyway. Talk to you soon. Possibly while in a caffeine-induced fugue-state. :D
Alex
Dear Almost 13-year old Alex,
Happiest of birthdays to you! My 14th birthday, just two weeks before your 13th, was actually a riot. No really, there was a riot outside the Palace and we were ordered to stay inside.
I think you’re old enough to hear the facts. Caffeine stunts your growth.
Too bad it’ll be too late by the time you read this.
Truth hurts, boyo.
Your friend,
Henry
PS:
… And it's too late, baby, now it's too late
Carole King; 1971
October 18, 2012
Dear Henry,
I’m sorry I haven’t written in awhile. Everything sucks and I hate it here. This feels dumb again.
My parents split up.
My brain feels like angry static. By the time I get home from school, my ears feel like they’re stuffed with spicy cotton balls and all I want to do is curl up under the covers and forget the world exists. Do you ever feel like that? Everything I see about you on the internet makes it look like you lead this perfect life but that’s impossible. Nothing good lasts. Everything is temporary but pain. Love is a scam, and I’m not falling for it ever.
I’m sorry I’m so negative. I start seeing a new therapist - a family therapist - next week. Maybe that will help, because Henry, I’m really struggling.
Sad,
Alex
Dear 14-year old Alex,
I promise you it gets better.
Also, not to brag or anything, but you totally do fall for it. And by ‘it’, I mean me. And god, do you fall hard. But if the way you looked at me this morning is any indication, you have zero regrets.
You still have days where your brain feels like angry static and your ears feel like they’re stuffed with spicy cotton balls. Funnily enough, you still use those words. But now, I join you under the covers, you curl up on my chest while I order us some take-away for delivery, and with a few firm kisses to your temple, you recover quite quickly, back to regularly-scheduled Alex in no time. It’s okay to get overwhelmed, and I’m so privileged to be the one that you come to, that always makes it better, and never worse.
Your friend,
Henry
PS: From ‘Dear Evan Hansen’:
“Have you ever felt like nobody was there?
Have you ever felt forgotten in the middle of nowhere?
Have you ever felt like you could disappear?
Like you could fall, and no one would hear?
Well, let that lonely feeling wash away
Maybe there's a reason to believe you'll be okay
'Cause when you don't feel strong enough to stand
You can reach, reach out your hand
And oh, someone will coming running
And I know, they'll take you home
Even when the dark comes crashing through
When you need a friend to carry you
And when you're broken on the ground
You will be found”
December 22, 2015
Dear Henry,
Holy shit.
I think I fucked up.
Last night, I kissed my best friend. We both had a couple of beers, and then one thing led to another and we got each other off. It was, actually, pretty awesome. Except.
Liam. His name is Liam.
I’m so fucking confused.
I’ve gone on dates with girls before. Kissed girls before. And it’s been great! I just don’t even know which way is up right now. Do you even get to go on dates? Do Princes have royal dating dilemmas?
I wish there was someone I could talk to about this. Sorry blog-Henry, you’re just not cutting it right now.
Alex
Dear 17-year old Alex,
Boy-howdy do I have news for you.
Your friend,
Henry
PS:
“You kissed a boy and you liked it."
(bastardized lyrics from “I kissed a girl” by Katy Perry, 2008)
August 3, 2016
Dear Henry,
I am SO FUCKING EXCITED. We just got to Rio. That’s right - RIO DE JANEIRO where the Olympics start in two days.
We had the BEST tacos tonight and Ma bought me a cerveza and the sunset from our balcony is so incredible, I wish I could share it with you.
It’s funny that I say that though, because I know you’re here too. I saw it on Twitter.
I really hope I get to meet you. I know I’m just a nobody to you, but I’ve really looked up to you, and you’ve really helped me over the last 6 years. I really want to tell you this and thank you.
Boa noite, Henrique!
Alexandre
PS: That means ‘good night, Henry’ in Brazilian Portuguese. But I bet you knew that because you seem so smart and cool.
Dearest 18-year old Alexandre,
I shudder to think of the days following this entry. The fact that this is where your blog abruptly ceases speaks volumes.
You know, by now, that I am sorry. I know, for nearly three years now, that my one apology was sufficient, righting the wrong so rapidly, because your heart is so quick to forgive, to find the good.
In the months following my father’s death, every breath hurt. I resented everything and everyone, especially one, like you, who radiated brilliant energy. Everything about our first encounter was about me, not you, I tell you again, in case some small part of you needs to hear it once again.
I need you to know, however, that, were I able to travel back in time, I would elect to allow the same sequence of events to occur. The fated flap of a butterfly’s wing has the ability to alter the course of our entire lives, and it is not hyperbolic to say that my life is nothing, if not for you.
What you are about to experience is a critical piece of the trajectory of our lives, and
Henry stops writing when he hears the front door open.
“Hen? Baby?” the love of his life calls up the stairs.
“Up here!” Henry responds, scrambling to sign off the final letter. He gathers all the papers together, ready to hand them over.
All my love,
Henrique
PS: “And rain falls angry on the tin roof
As we lie awake in my bed
And you're my survival, you're my livin' proof
My love is alive and not dead
And tell me that we belong together
And dress it up with the trappings of love
I'll be captivated, I'll hang from your lips
Instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above
And I'll be your cryin' shoulder
I'll be love's suicide
And I'll be better when I'm older
I'll be the greatest fan of your life.”
Edwin McCain; 1997