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Home has always been a fickle concept to Alex.
Once he thought it could be a single place, a haven of safety made for resting after a long day out. A fortress he could go back to in order to recharge his batteries before going back to his grand adventure: taking the world by storm with his eyes wide open and heart ready to discover it all.
Once he thought home was the creamy scent of his parent’s detergent in the soft cotton sheets of his childhood single bed. The ceiling covered in fluorescent stars blinking back at him as his tired eyes fluttered closed after another long day of world-exploring and havoc-wreaking. The faint light coming from his sister’s room across the corridor lulling him to sleep when the stars felt like the reflection of something too great and too mysterious for him; the steady thought of June’s long hair grazing his forehead and her lean fingers running through his curls, pleasantly relaxing his racing thoughts to reach Morpheus’ kingdom.
However, one day home shattered and had to become more than the household he grew up in. From then on, those walls bore the echoes of hateful screams and, worse, painful silences. In their frames, the pictures of a happy family of four could as well be all torn or burned, the glass burst in a single and deep crack like the one splitting open Alex’s guts.
Years passed. Uncomfortable growth spurts, first shaving lessons, trust broken and rebuilt, outstanding grades that always hid a creeping fear of rejection and failure, lacrosse trophies lining one, then several shelves, crushes and awkward first times, many records spinning on an old turntable, fights in Spanish, reconciliations in English, seeing more and more of the country but never quite finding home.
Places and people multiplied, though, and at one point Alex realized that the sum of a thousand little things could maybe form a home. His mom’s look turning sweet when she drawled her famous “sugar”, even if she was chastising him in the very same sentence. The hammock in the shadow of the live oak in the lake house garden’s western corner. June slumping down on his bed with a stack of celebrity magazines and a toothy smile. The sound and smell of the tortilla sizzling in the pan when he woke up in California, always accompanied by the vision of his dad focused on preparing the red salsa for the chilaquiles. Leo’s hilarious jokes that threw Alex under the table at every family dinner.
The journey into adulthood brought its own kind of disruptions and challenges, but in the midst of that confusing storm, Alex slowly found himself. Life can be surprising in its own ways. It meant leaving behind his teenage dream of being the first politician to make it to Congress before thirty. It meant going to law school in a city that never sleeps. It meant realizing that maybe his high school best friend Liam had been more than a friend, and he’d been really blind about it.
Between changing life paths and coming to terms with his sexuality, more pieces of what he could now call home came together to complete the puzzle. Nora’s cocky voice as she enumerated statistics about his life that made him want to throw himself off a cliff – she had a way of pointing out all the chaos emanating from him with an accuracy that was honestly inhuman. The feeling of a hot shower after an endless day at school. The slight burning of the first sip of coffee, the aftertaste of cinnamon comforting him for hours in the morning – and sometimes late in the evening when he decided to pull all-nighters.
The rounded vowels of an English accent.
The ones that greet him in the morning with a steaming cup of espresso, that croon old David Bowie songs in the shower, that scold him when he loses himself in his law books until the small hours of the morning. The ones that go so well with that soft smile that makes his heart stutter whenever he lets his guard down.
Tonight, however, when Alex opens the door to their shared apartment in Brooklyn, the usual smile on Henry’s face doesn’t make an appearance. Or, at least, it doesn’t reach his eyes. Alex immediately knows that something is wrong.
His bag makes a loud noise when he drops it in the entrance, barely petting David and shrugging his coat off his shoulders before joining Henry, who’s currently curled up on the sofa. Most of the time, Alex can tell Henry’s mood with the quickest glance towards his facial expression or posture. They have been best friends for three years and living together for one and a half: he’s had the time to learn every micro expression that can disturb his perfect Greek-god face. The fact that he’s irrevocably in love with him probably has nothing to do with that.
“Did David eat your last crumpet by accident?” he jokes while dropping on the couch and immediately grabbing Henry’s ankles to place his feet on his lap.
The fact that his roommate is able to laugh at the attempt at joking slightly reassures Alex. Henry has been quieter than usual for the last few days, but there is nothing surprising about it. He always tends to shut down a little when winter comes around and Christmas invades every street corner and storefront. He told Alex once that winter holidays always were his favourite ones while growing up. But for Henry, just like for Alex, time played its nasty trick and what once was a heart-warming, laughter-filled family reunion is now just an open wound, still infected, full of ghosts of former happiness.
“I would have been terribly mad were it the case,” Henry replies with that humorous tone that always makes Alex’s insides fizz like champagne.
“What’s up then? And don’t do that thing where you pretend everything is fine when you know perfectly well that I’m able to read between those cute wrinkles that appear on your forehead when you’re worried.”
Deciding that he should walk the walk as well as talk the talk, Alex pulls a little bit more on Henry’s calves to bring him closer. Henry doesn’t protest and promptly entangles their legs together and scoots closer, enabling Alex to bring his fingers to his forehead and effectively brush the pads on said wrinkles. He’s happy to see them disappear – at least for now – to give way to a cocked eyebrow and a lopsided smile.
“Cute?” Henry taunts.
“Shut up, you know everything about you is cute, baby.”
Just like every other time, he’s careful to play this as a meaningless flirt. But lately it’s been harder. Between packed school days, PhD research and friends’ visits, both Henry and Alex always find the time to date people. Neither of them is particularly private about it. Over the years, Alex has heard many different names, from Bryan to Dom, passing by Milo, and sometimes even ran into a Matt or a Romeo on his way to his morning shower. (He hated Romeo in particular. Maybe because he was tall and Italian and polite and perfect and for a flying second, Alex thought Henry would make him his boyfriend and fucking marry him). In reverse, Henry had to hear about dozens of dates ranging from mildly pleasant to positively disastrous. They still laugh about the one where Asami, a girl Alex met online, made him eat the spiciest Japanese food in existence, and Alex’s Mexican pride took a blow when he spent the rest of the night writhing in pain in his bed with Henry applying wet flannels to his forehead. However, they don’t really talk about Diego, who gave him a birthday present on their fourth date that meant a lot more than Alex was ready to commit to. He broke up with him a week later, and when he got back home that night and broke the news to Henry, they had the best roommate night in a long time, throwing popcorn at each other and drinking every time someone lost a limb or a Wilhelm scream was used in Empire .
Through all of this, Alex has always known Henry was the love of his life. Meeting people and giving them a chance always feels both like something he should try in order to move on and a loss of time when no one ever compares to the perfect Brit currently blushing on his lap. God, he could drink in those endless blue eyes for years and still be a thirsty man.
“You know you can talk to me.”
“I know,” Henry answers softly, and the worst of it is that Alex feels it in the depth of his bones: the sincerity in Henry’s irises, the endless trust he places in him. It is entirely mutual, but that always overwhelms Alex anyway. It might be his greatest accomplishment in life.
“My mom called,” is what finally comes.
A quiet admission, like a child confessing after a particularly bad behaviour. Except Alex knows Henry never did anything wrong when it comes to his family. It’s not his fault everything is so complicated with the Mountchristens. With Henry looking so vulnerable in his embrace, Alex dares to let his fingers trail down and slowly rub circles on delicate cheekbones.
“This year, my grandma decided to invite Martha’s family for Christmas. She wants to impress them, I suppose. Pull the grand Mountchristen spectacle and rub it in their faces. She… also doesn’t want me there.”
“ Excuse me?! ”
“Something about me bringing shame to the family, I suppose.”
“Henry…” Alex starts, struggling to breathe through the haze of anger.
“Don’t. It’s okay. I left the country for a reason. I don’t regret getting away from them.”
Still, behind the sad resolution, Alex can almost see all the childhood memories playing behind Henry’s pretty eyelids. His dad’s warm laugh and the sparkle in his mom’s eyes, his older siblings singing Christmas songs to him and all of them opening their gifts, layer after layer of colourful wrapping paper forgotten on the floor in front of the roaring fire. Alex’s heart aches for him as if the memories were his own. Maybe something like soulmates truly exists. Maybe he doesn’t only imagine the way Henry’s pain radiates through his own heart.
“What did your mom say?”
Henry freezes on his lap for a second. He looks at him under fair eyelashes; Alex is so close he could take a dive in the dark pools of his eyes. When his friend answers, it’s in a protective whisper.
“She’s not quite there, Alex. I know you wish she could stand up for me more, but I don’t know if she’ll ever be there.”
Alex takes a long breath. When he was in eighth grade, something broke in him when one of his teachers, an ugly troll answering to the name of Mr. Wilson, humiliated a girl in his class because she couldn’t do her homework on time. The history teacher knew perfectly well she had to babysit her four younger siblings most weeknights and probably couldn’t even open her notebook between cooking and bathing them. It wasn’t Alex’s fault if that day he ended up in the principal’s office with a strong note reminding him not to insult teachers and throw a fit in front of the whole class. Point is, he doesn’t like injustice. He cannot stand when things are unfair.
And Henry did absolutely nothing other than be his beautiful, glorious self and put himself out there, in the open, no matter what his family thought about it.
So yes, sometimes Alex can’t help being a little bit annoyed at Catherine for not supporting her son more than she is right now. Multiple conversations with both Henry and Beatrice made him understand that she is still doing better than before, and he’s glad – he really is – that the three Mountchristen children can slowly reconnect with their mom.
“What about Bea?”
He knows at least she must have said something. Henry confirms with a little chuckle.
“Told my grandma to fuck off. Gave an early gift to Martha – poor thing, she has nothing to do with all of this – and gave them the Vs. Fled to Switzerland to visit her friend Hanna.”
“Atta girl!” Alex chortles. “Their loss. Everybody with a drop of good taste can see the best two people in this family are you and your sister.”
By now, Henry is mainly soft and pliant between his arms, and Alex knows he effectively cheered him up, but there is still something bugging him.
“Wait, but where does it leave you in all of this? I thought you’d be spending the holidays with Bea and Pez if it wasn’t with your family. But if Bea isn’t here…”
“Pez won’t be either,” Henry answers swiftly, looking away. “I, uh, cancelled my flight for London. Will be staying here after all.”
This drags a horrified gasp from Alex, who bolts upright and sends an incredulous look at Henry.
“Hen, what the fuck?! You can’t spend Christmas alone. This is forbidden !”
“Bollocks,” Henry deadpans. “Didn’t know there was an amendment about winter festivities in the US Constitution. Is that what your bloody essay was about last week? You’ve been complaining about it a lot, if I recall.”
“My essay was about social inequalities due to Law Enforcement and the Judicial Court system and you know it cause you had to listen to me ramble about it for about four nights in a row, and I think even you could tell me the percentage of African Americans and Hispanics amongst all the incarcerated in America.”
“56%,” Henry interjects without missing a beat. “Welcome to the land of the free.”
“And deeply-rooted racism that still reflects badly upon our judicial system. But that ain’t my point. It’s actually by the ancestral code of Santa Claus and his reindeers that you’re forbidden to spend Christmas all alone. What are you even gonna do here? This place is going to be so cold and inhospitable without my dazzling presence.”
“Not everything is about you, dear,” Henry laughs, and the pet name makes Alex’s whole body warm in a pleasant way. This exact sentence, with the words in the same order, could be coming from Nora, but he’d rather have Henry’s fond tone than her snarky voice.
“Seriously, though, H.”
This time, Henry puts a little bit of distance between them. He doesn’t have to say or do more for Alex to figure out that he feels a little bit embarrassed about all of this. Which is the fucking exact opposite of what he should be feeling right now. This would be like surrendering to all the bad things his grandmother will probably say about him to Martha’s parents at that stupid Christmas dinner. If he was listening to his intrusive thoughts, Alex would take a plane to Heathrow just to go and spit in Mary’s Christmas pudding. If he felt up to it, he could even stuff pigs in a blanket in her old ears. Doing things out of spite is something he’s good at. Don’t fucking test him.
As if he could read his mind, Henry wrinkles his eyes at him.
“I’m fine, Alex. I’ll probably order something nice and Facetime Bea and finish my latest book so I can move on my to-be-read list. You know that would be a good Christmas for me.”
This won’t do. This can’t be a worthy Christmas for the love of his life, even if said love of his life is currently just his roommate who has been kicked out of a house – hell, even of his country if you want to look at it that way – because he likes men. Which is, as far as Alex is concerned, a fucking good thing. Figuring out he likes men was one of the best things to ever happen to him. He doesn’t even understand how some people can go their whole lives without at least being curious about it. But that isn’t the debate.
“That is a good regular Thursday night for you, Henry. This can’t be your Christmas. I’m forbidding it.”
“You’re forbidding it? And how…” Henry starts, perfect eyebrow raised once again.
“You’re coming to Texas with me.”
This promptly shuts Henry’s mouth. He blinks.
“Alex, I can’t…”
“You can.”
“No, let me finish, I can’t just invite myself; this is your family time, and your parents surely don’t want a stranger invading their…”
The rest of the words never push past his lips because Alex tackles him into the sofa and Henry lands on his back with a muffled “oof” that Alex wants to swallow up.
“What stranger?” he grins, now straddling Henry who seems a little bit out of breath. “I don’t see any stranger here, you idiot. You didn’t invite yourself, I did. And now,” he leans a little bit towards Henry and sees the exact moment his friend starts holding his breath, “you’re going to lift your perfect ass off this couch and book your flight to Austin before I do it for you.”
There’s a beat of silence during which Alex fully takes in the position they’re in, the weight of Henry’s body underneath his thighs, the intoxicating scent emanating from him that Alex wants to lick off his skin, and most of all the way Henry’s pupils are blown and fixed on his lips. As they finally reach his eyes, a genuine and grateful smile splits his face.
“Alright. As soon as you lift that perfect ass of yours from the couch. Even if I must admit, I could spend more time like this.”
And despite all his flirty manners and self-confidence, that makes Alex blush.
***
This year, the large patio doors and comfy armchairs of the lake house compose the setting of the Claremont-Diaz Christmas. Oscar came back from California, where he spent the last month fighting to pass a bill on gun regulation, to take the old ladder out of the shed and start placing lights all around the house.
That’s where Alex and Henry find him when the taxi drops them in front of the house that usually reminds Alex of long summer nights and mosquito bites on wet legs.
“Hola, Pa!” he shouts as soon as he hops out of the car, his suitcase’s handle in one hand. “Need a hand?”
“With pleasure,” Oscar shouts back, his hand full of wires and bulbs. “You can go inside and drop your bags, the door’s open.”
When they’re both back outside, with their coats still on but scarves forgotten on Alex’s bed, Oscar has climbed down the ladder to properly greet them.
“Hola, mijo,” he laughs as Alex gives him a bone-crushing hug. “Henry! Nice to meet you, son.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Diaz,” his friend answers with his most polite smile and outstretched hand, only to be completely taken by surprise when Oscar gives him the same bear hug he offered his son.
Alex laughs a little at Henry’s wide eyes but quickly turns tender when he realizes Henry is truly moved by the display of affection. God only knows the last time he felt a dad’s embrace. He always forgets Henry hasn’t met his whole family yet. June and Nora visited multiple times, and they even once formed the Super Six group during last year's epic New Year’s party at Alex and Henry’s. They also both met Ellen for a round of pancakes at one of Alex’s favourite dinners back in May while she was on a business trip in New York. Other than that, Henry still has to meet Leo and Zahra, who always spends Christmas with them. He also hopes that this year Cash, Amy and her wife will pop up at some point. They’d never miss an occasion to spoil the Claremont-Diaz children, and June and Alex always make a point to tell them what’s up with their lives. Surely Nora and Cash will resume their weird tradition of racing to finish the Christmas crosswords first. Alex has always been attached to small things like that.
“Thank you so much for welcoming me here for the festivities,” Henry goes on respectfully once Oscar releases him, his eyes shining a little bit brighter than before.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s a pleasure for us. You’re family, after all.” The natural tone and genuine words take both Henry and Alex’s breaths away before Oscar adds with a crooked smile that isn’t totally unfamiliar: “You deserve way more than a Christmas gift for putting up with my son on a daily basis.”
“Knew something like that was coming,” Alex grunts as Henry bursts into laughter.
Soon enough, the three of them are busy with lights and tinsel. Between the faint lapping noise coming from the lake behind him and the deep voices of his dad and his best friend trading jokes, Alex feels at home.
***
June and Nora make their entrance right before dinner on the same night, barging into the living room where Alex and Henry already have a head start on the luminadas . Alex is a little obsessed with Henry’s awed expression while he excitedly explains the tradition. June and he haven’t done luminadas since their last Christmas with their dad, which was longer ago than Alex would like to acknowledge. However, he’s here now, with Henry and his dad, and his sister and his best friend, who are currently in the process of crushing them both against their chests. It has to count for something, even though right now he’s not sure he’s going to make it to the actual Christmas dinner.
“Oh my god, Bug! No need to try to suffocate me.”
“So happy to witness the tremendous elation you’re feeling right now. Please don’t be so touched at seeing your sister for the first time since October. How have you not killed him yet, Henry?”
“I must admit that sometimes it hangs by a thread,” Henry quips while meticulously wiping his hands before returning June’s embrace.
“Remember the time when he thought he could jump from the Brooklyn Bridge? Would have made your job easier, Henry. Gosh, Alejandro, you were so fucking sloshed.”
“Nora. Babe. Gurl. Do shut the fuck up, please. Dad didn’t know about that one.”
“I must say I’m not surprised, son,” Oscar’s voice echoes from the open kitchen where he’s currently cooking pozole de pollo. “Can’t blame you though. If only you knew the kind of things I did at your age.”
“Been there, done that.” Nora nods like she is some eighty-year-old wise woman and not a twenty-four-year-old bisexual disaster in battered Dr Martens. “Not to ruin the mood, but the party needs to start. Expected better from you, Oscar – respectfully. Good thing we’re here.”
Ten minutes later, the comforting smell of the onions and jalapeños cooking with spices fills the dimly lit room, coming alive thanks to the upbeat rhythm of Murder on the Dancefloor . Alex’s head spins with happiness when Nora drags him on the carpet and dances with him, half-screaming the lyrics. The flames currently roaring in the fireplace reflect off her gold hoop earrings as she moves her head and curls her mouth around the syllables.
In the kitchen, June complains because Oscar has made the pozole de pollo verde and not rojo like she prefers but ends up hugging her dad and plunging her finger into the sauce anyway. Then she decides to feed it to Henry – “ taste it, British boy! You have to prepare your tastebuds for later!” – and to Alex’s delight, Henry lets himself be tempted, a shy but gleeful smile on his lips. Alex looks closely as his pale complexion hides absolutely nothing, from his cheeks that turn bright red to the way his eyes immediately water.
“You’re ogling,” Nora teases, her mouth close to his ear. Damn wedged-heeled Doc Martens.
“What if I am?” he lets himself answer, not really trying to hide his crush anymore. If he lets Nora believe it’s only a crush, maybe she’ll leave him alone and won’t torment him like the harpy she is.
However – and not for the first time – he realizes quite fast that he underestimated Nora. She had probably already deciphered how far gone he is on his best friend months ago.
“Then you should do something about it,” she whispers as the playlist goes on to another song.
And Alex realizes he would quite like to, because, for a number of reasons, he feels that Henry and he have been growing closer and closer for the last several months. And as he is still Alex Gabriel Claremont-Diaz and will stay forever true to himself, he has been making a mental list of said reasons. So far, it goes:
One. Neither of them has dated anyone for a few months now. Maybe because time flies by and they’re both busy. But Alex also knows that if he spends every minute of his free time with Henry… then Henry does too.
Two. Alex has been flirting more and more loudly, and though Henry has always answered with witty comments, he’s never met him blow for blow like he has lately.
Three. He’s here now, joining them on their improvised dancefloor at June’s side, mussy-haired, rosy-cheeked, looking carefree, and it feels right .
Over the next couple days, this feeling extends, and Alex’s list grows. It’s Henry’s peaceful expression as he reads quietly in the hammock under the live oak, the faint warmth of the winter sun casting pools of light on his cardigan, making Alex want to paint him even if he’s never touched a brush in his life. It’s the way his body moves to free up some space for Alex when he crawls next to him, his arm opening naturally for Alex to rest his head in the crook of his neck. His soft hums as Alex makes his teenage years come alive through lazy strings of words, his eyelids feeling heavier by the minute. Before he knows it, he falls asleep to the slow rhythm of deft fingers scratching his scalp, past, present and future wrapping him in a blanket of bittersweet souvenirs and promised lightheartedness.
They both wake up to Ellen’s loud voice and distinct drawl. For a second, Alex’s heart jumps in panic. He relaxes as soon as he realizes his parents aren’t fighting, and the screams are cheering rather than disputes. Henry’s left cheek bears the mark of the hammock’s motif and Alex has to physically prevent himself from leaning down to kiss it. To make up for it, he allows himself to stay close and watch the way fair eyelashes flutter open before standing up and dragging Henry with him while he jumps forward to the house to kiss his mom and stepdad.
Maybe this year a Christmas miracle does happen because no fight arises between his parents. Ellen brings the turkey and Oscar and June get a head start on the tamales while Nora makes a point to make her Christmas cookies look like the guests. Leo’s is spot-on, with thick-framed glasses and a relaxed smile. Henry’s also does him justice, with yellowish glazing for the hair, small blue dots for the eyes and a quite accurate Union Jack plastered on the chest. Alex has the irrational impulse to take a bite.
When Zahra arrives, wind-swept but still every bit the classy businesswoman she is 24/7, Christmas Eve dinner is almost ready. On the table, candles are lit and swan-shaped red and green napkins folded by Nora’s nimble hands swim in the large empty plates.
“Touch me and I’ll choke you in your sleep with that stupid ribbon you’re wearing. Seriously, people, who told this daft boy it was a good idea to put a ribbon around his head? You look like an Easter egg,” she attacks as soon as she steps in the house and Alex jumps on her. He’s never been happier to hear one of her deadly remarks.
“It’s because I’m a gift , Zahra,” he shouts, way less offended than he pretends to be.
“There is no universe where you’re a gift to anyone, Diaz, even less to my patience.”
“June told me to wear it.”
“Ill-advised,” Zahra dryly comments. “Now, that is some good taste,” she adds, nodding appreciatively at Henry who appears out of nowhere next to Alex, probably to impress the newcomer with his all-British natural charisma. And fuck, it’s working. Mainly on Alex.
Seeing as Henry does a good job at introducing himself in a way that actually draws the nicer version of Zahra out of her fortified inner castle, he steps away to help his sister and Nora finish setting the table.
Before going out to place the luminadas on the stairs leading to the house, everybody is invited to slip their traditional Christmas card under the swan napkins.
Last night, Alex explained to Henry that this family tradition started because June was a boot licker in fourth grade. He would have told the entire story if only he didn’t lose track of his commentary as soon as Henry’s lips wrapped around the edge of the mug filled with Mexican hot chocolate Alex gave him earlier. Between a roll of eyes and a slight shake of her head, June had to step in to enlighten him fully. As she went on explaining about how she loved to give Christmas cards to her family, with a few well-chosen words to express her affection for them, Alex only wanted to know how Henry had liked the beverage he’d made for him. In his haze, he managed to realize that Henry was both curious and worried at having to do several cards.
“Don’t worry,” June reassured him immediately. “When we were in middle school, Alex’s lazy ass decided that writing a card for everybody was too much of a stretch. So he organized a rotating schedule – you know Alex – for the next twenty years. Meaning one person has to write a card for one person only.”
This snapped Alex back to reality.
“Yup, don’t worry H. I had to update the beast multiple times, but you know my tables always work in the end. Over the years, I had to remove our grandparents when they stopped coming from Mexico, then added Leo, Zahra, Nora…”
“So who am I supposed to write a card to?” Henry had asked anxiously.
“Easy peasy: me.”
Henry’s look had been cryptic then, as if somehow writing a Christmas card to Alex was a lot more complicated than Alex could imagine.
“Right. Thank you, I suppose.”
“The pleasure is mine, sweetheart. I’ll write to you in return, Nora has dad and is delighted by it – no irony on my part here – June’s got Leo, Leo’s got Zahra – poor him – dad has mom… I know, June, it’s not my fault, it’s the table . Don’t criticize my baby. Anyway, mom has to write to June, which is a fucking good idea if you want my opinion, which leaves Nora who’ll receive hers from Zahra. Can’t wait to see this one.”
“She’ll probably ask me what I’m still doing here with you losers while I could be having my best post-Hanukkah winter vacation in Vermont. And she wouldn’t be wrong, you know.”
“Shut up, you love us.”
“Well, you can be glad your sister has nice tits, otherwise I’d be gone before long.”
This had elicited a shocked gasp from June, a disgusted sound from Alex and an amused laugh from Henry. The rest of Nora’s sentence had died in the playful fight that ensued between the two girls. The rest of the night had turned even messier and hazier when Oscar left a bottle of old rum on the coffee table before going to bed, shifting the mood of the evening from hot-chocolate-well-behaved to rum-shots-dancing-frenzy. So much so that Alex flopped down on his bed at three in the morning, barely acknowledging the fact that Henry had changed in the same fucking room and deliciously slipped his warm body next to his in the bed. Sometimes he wished he could stop drinking to fully appreciate the delights life has to offer.
Amongst them, waking up in a bed next to his roommate/best friend/maybe-not-unrequited crush certainly ranks real fucking high. However, seeing him so relaxed and at ease during the Christmas dinner certainly competes. He’s seated between Alex and Nora, facing Leo with whom he gets along wonderfully well, and soon Alex worries that this year, he might finish the night dead under the table from laughter not only because of his stepdad but because of the devilish alliance between him and his best friend. They have the same dry humour that goes straight to Alex’s head and by the end of the dinner, he thinks his brain has released more endorphins in a span of two hours than it has for the entire month. Henry’s cheeks are slightly reddened both by the spicy dishes and the red wine he’s been drinking and it’s not Alex’s fault if his head is spinning with the strong desire to smash his lips on them. He could thrive for months on only the warmth coming from those perfect cheeks. Could spend countless days awake if only he could bottle the sound of Henry’s laugh and play it on repeat in his mind.
Fuck, he’s so far gone.
By the time Cash, Amy and her wife walk through the door, he’s stuffed, pleasantly drunk and so, so, so in love it hurts. The arrival of the newcomers brings a breath of fresh air – both figuratively and literally, since the door opening lets them know how cold the night is now – as well as more cheering and happy greetings. Soon enough, Nora walks out of the kitchen with a tray of Christmas cookies, followed by Oscar carrying a handful of eggnogs. Watching Henry’s careful expression as he is presented with the traditional Christmas beverage is one of Alex’s highlights of the night.
“My dad pours an unhealthy amount of rum in it. You’re safe to drink it, Fox,” he purrs into Henry’s ear, not missing the way it adorably flushes against his mouth.
“Your predisposition toward making someone feel better leaves a lot to be desired,” he retorts while sniffing suspiciously the white liquid. He drinks it anyway – out of politeness or curiosity, maybe Alex will never know.
“Verdict?”
“Pleasantly surprised,” Henry flatters with a look that should honestly be illegal. Alex can’t be turned on by Henry drinking eggnog, for God’s sake.
Fortunately for him, June and Nora have apparently decided that the mood of the night needs to change and as midnight passes and everybody starts screaming Merry Christmas, kissing and hugging, music suddenly fills the room.
“Oh my fucking god, Nora! You know me so well ,” Alex screams as soon as the first notes of some old David Guetta song starts.
“Reminds me of our first nights out,” she answers with the same unrestrained excitement, her curls bouncing around her face, her dress riding up slightly on her bare thighs as she gets up. “Remember?”
“How could I forget? Me and you, aggressively flirting in a cheap club, half a dozen tequila shots down.”
“Sweet memory,” she giggles, downing her eggnog as if on cue and pulling June by the wrist towards the dancing area.
Alex turns towards Henry, agitated and eager like a ten-year-old child.
“You coming? You’re European, you have to be a fan of Guetta too.”
“When it comes to French artists, I tend to have a preference for Debussy, but I guess maybe Guetta can make me dance.”
“Fucking stellar .”
Alex figures he must look like a troll on ecstasy, his curls unruly and sparkling with the tube of glitter Nora practically poured on him earlier, but somehow it seems to make Henry go soft on the edges.
“Let me just get the loo, and I’ll join you guys,” he whispers with a sweet smile that makes Alex’s inside do a backflip.
On the carpet, June and Nora seem to be in the middle of something that falls somewhere between scream-dancing and trying to eat each other’s mouth. Alex shouts at them to have some decorum, only to be given the finger and pulled inside their bubble to complete their legendary trio – without the making out part, hopefully.
Jumping around to some 2012 hit and nailing Nicky Minaj’s bridge somehow feels like both a moment of pure euphoria and a release. Christmas has always been about family; it’s a sweet reunion for sure, but moving his head and closing his eyes as they all shout “ We can all be friends ” feels like adding another layer of happiness to this particular festivity. It feels like despite the daily stress, the pressure of figuring out his life and nailing his exams, life can be about friendship and love and partying. Insouciance runs through their veins and at the moment nothing else matters.
Other hits from their childhood roll on, old songs first listened to on second-hand iPads, then danced until their breath vanished in high school parties and endless nights in university. Time blurs and Alex lets his hips roll as the loud laughs coming from the parents' table morph into background noise. He laughs as Nora pushes her back against his chest and lets his hands fall on her hips as another old favourite makes them move in tandem. Then it’s June who wraps her arms around his neck, her long wavy hair tickling his collar bone.
His entire body shivers when finally, a pair of pale strong hands slots in the dip of his waist. He immediately falls back in Henry’s warm body and gosh, it’s like his body was made for him in the first place.
“Right on time baby,” he slurs while dropping his head in the crook of Henry’s neck, thanking the universe for their height difference for once.
At first, Henry doesn’t answer, and Alex needs a couple of seconds to understand that the use of the pet name got him struggling with words. A devilish smile blooms on his face – he wishes Henry could see it.
“Why is that?”
Alex isn’t done with making Henry sweetly short-circuit. It’s not his fault if Nora’s playlist is full of old Pitbull hits. Such bangers never get old.
“Because the song’s right on cue, don’t you think?” he coos, grinding his hips ever so slightly against Henry before turning suddenly and looking at him in the eyes when he adds: “Aren’t you my international love?”
As expected, Henry freezes right as the chorus starts, which gives Alex the opportunity and delight of both screaming the lyrics and witnessing his best friend’s dazzled expression and blinking eyes before his smile turns bright and infectious. He shakes his head. You’re a menace , Alex reads from the lips he wants to kiss so bad.
He only winks in lieu of an answer and lets the music engulf them.
***
If someone asked Alex what part of that Christmas party he ended up preferring, it would be hard to answer. Hearing both his mother and his father’s laugh mingling in a conversation might be a good element to mention. The rare heartfelt exchange he and Zahra shared not far from the Christmas tree is also a memory he will cherish, starting with a joke and ending with an emotional hug that he thinks she’ll deny if he ever brings it up. Witnessing Henry joining Cash and Nora in their crossword competition as his mother lays her head on his own on the opposite couch is also worth noting. Amy and Leo’s arm-wrestling session might have lost June a couple of dollars though, her face doing that funny expression where she pretends to be surprised by the outcome when she obviously bet on Leo to give him some support in the first place.
However, nothing, from the family bliss to the beautiful gifts he got, will ever compare to Henry’s contented expression as they settle on Alex’s bed once the night comes to an end.
Outside, the stars are shining and the flames in the luminadas have been mostly blown by the chilling wind that covers the sounds of nocturnal animals. The house isn’t completely silent: if they listen carefully, they can hear the water flowing in the pipes, coming from the bathroom where Ellen is taking a shower, or the muffled giggles coming from June and Nora’s room right up the stairs. Not for the first time, Alex is glad he’s got the only bedroom on the ground floor.
It’s not a reflection of his personality like his childhood room is, but he likes the warm light brought in from the small lamps and the view the large window offers onto the garden and the lake. Now only the bedside table’s bulbs are turned on, the comfortable atmosphere enhanced by the scent of the soap his father left for them, used just now by Henry who’s getting out of the shower, hair damp and looking a lot more sober and less sweaty than before. Alex relates. His own shower felt like coming back from the dead, even if he found he was a very happy zombie.
“I wondered when you would bring that up,” Henry smiles as he crosses his legs on the comforter, glancing at the envelope Alex is fiddling with. It only makes his nervousness grow.
“I’m sorry I didn’t give it to you earlier,” he exhales in weak laughter.
He’s ready for this. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have written those words on that damn Christmas card that’s currently fighting for its life between his agitated fingers.
“I guess I just wanted to make the moment a little bit more intimate,” he chuckles, cringing a little bit at how awkward he must sound. But Henry’s eyes don’t leave his, making the moment more solemn.
As if his mind had gone the same way, he produces his own Christmas card out of thin air, making it dance between his deft fingers, probably not grasping a hundredth of Alex’s nervousness.
“That makes two of us. Who should do the honours?”
“Let’s just… let’s just trade and read at the same time.”
Gosh, he shouldn’t feel as edgy as he is right now. No big deal, Alex, you’re just confessing your love to your best friend on a freaking Christmas card . His brain second-guesses the decision right now, late just like usual. Is it lame? It surely is pathetic. What if Henry just wished him a Merry Christmas and that’s it? He will look so dumb and has nowhere to hide since all the bedrooms are taken by now. Maybe the hammock could provide a safe refuge for the night. If his family finds him frozen to death tomorrow morning, he won’t have to worry about making it out of law school anymore.
Henry interrupts his derailing train of thought by pushing the red envelope into his shaky hands. It’s far from being the first time, but Alex is still surprised when he literally reads his mind.
“You should know… I’m as anxious as you are here, love.”
Which should make things easier, Alex figures, but as soon as he loses himself in the infinity of baby blue eyes, he feels a pang in his stomach. He can’t screw this, lose this. Henry is too important to him. In this very instant, he realizes he would be ready to give up his whole life for Henry’s happiness.
He’s about to blurt his thoughts when Henry saves him by slowly pulling the blue envelope out of Alex’s hand, silently asking him for permission. The slight nod he receives seems enough for him. Despite his words, firm fingers open the envelope and pull on the glazed paper. Alex’s brain scrambles to move back to reality and he makes quick work of Henry’s card too.
On the white background, a familiar, neat handwriting reflects those words at him:
“ Dear Alex,
I will never thank you enough for the way you and your family opened your house to me. It means more than words could ever convey.
I know that you have always struggled to find the meaning of home. Alex, let me tell you that on my part it’s been clear since the very beginning: my home is you, through and through.
Forever and ever yours,
H.”
Outside, the wind is still blowing like a lullaby cradling the night. The house is now silent, water sounds and remote laughter replaced by a peaceful stillness only disturbed by the loud beating of Alex’s heart in his ears. Another breath seems out of reach right now, for in the night sky the constellations are the same, in the gardens the same crickets are singing under the wind, but Alex’s own world has shifted.
Hot tears are reflected back at him when he lays his eyes on the most beautiful boy in the world. He could recite the words he puts on Henry’s card in his sleep, as engraved as they are in his heart. Earlier he turned them over and over, trying to think of the most perfect way to confess his love to the man that changed his life. As usual, the very same annoying Brit surpassed him and crushed him with his talent for words. At this point, Alex wouldn’t be surprised if Shakespeare himself hides in a corner of Henry’s impressive family tree.
When Henry speaks again, his voice is strangled with emotion and his face harbours the most perfect and softest smile Alex has ever seen. His entire body is vibrant from the feelings overflowing and for a second, he thinks he might faint when Henry’s voice wraps around him like the most comforting blanket ever made.
“This has been in the making for a while, hasn’t it?”
Alex can only nod silently, the lump in his throat taking proportions that would be concerning if it wasn’t the result of him confessing his undying love to Henry.
“Alex…” the blonde boy whispers, his voice rough with emotion, but before he can add anything else Alex’s mouth opens and words flow out of him without his consent.
“This has been in the making for so long, Henry. I think I fell in love with you approximately three minutes after meeting you. I’ve never met anyone that makes so much sense to me, Hen. That haunts my dreams like you do, that brightens my days like you do, that makes me laugh like you do. Everything feels so right when I’m with you. As if I was fucking made to grow next to you, with you. I want to cherish you, your body, your soul, your entire self until you get bored of me because I know I’m a walking disaster and I can be a lot sometimes and…”
“Alex,” Henry warns with a deprecatory tone even though his whole face shines from the tears falling freely on his cheeks.
“What I mean, Henry,” Alex breathes with difficulty, his heart on the brink of implosion, “is that you’re the one for me. I don’t think I can be clearer. You’re the one. If you don’t think I can be that for you, you can just tell me, I can take it, I…”
“Alex.”
“It will probably seem silly that I said that and I will probably feel really dumb about it for a few days, or a few weeks, but I would totally understand if…”
“Alex.”
He’s aware he’s rambling, and panicking, and that he should stop talking, but he can’t stop, and probably wouldn’t have stopped if Henry didn’t interrupt him by crashing their lips together.
Alex’s brain goes pleasantly silent.
Outside, the lullaby continues. Outside, the constellations are still painting the night sky like garlands for the navigators. Outside, the crickets didn’t stop singing their endless song. But Alex’s world has shifted again.
A pair of lips is brushing against his own, with intent and strength at first, and then with a tenderness that makes his heart soften around the edges and then totally crumble down like a castle under the assault of the most glorious army. It feels like the most intimate caress, and he presses against it, eager to taste every ounce of flavour it has to offer. One shouldn’t be surprised by how life-changing a simple kiss can be, but Alex is used to being tricked by life, by the universe, by Henry fucking Fox himself.
He returns the kiss while his entire self finally surrenders to everything Henry is, from his witty smiles to his endless wisdom, passing by his dark days and the soft sounds of pleasure that are now coming out of his throat. Alex is obsessed with it. He’s obsessed with everything Henry is, was and will be, and he can’t help but whisper it to him between their kisses. It makes Henry turn a little wild, gripping Alex’s hair and pulling slightly, eliciting a loud moan from Alex that surprises them both, making them jump slightly and go back to reality.
For a minute, silence hangs between them, blue irises lost in brown ones until both of their faces split into genuine smiles. Love is pouring in from all sides and Alex is tired of not acknowledging it.
So he whispers the most unshakable truth he knows.
“I love you, Henry Fox”.
“I love you more, Alex Claremont-Diaz,” Henry answers with a smile he wants to swallow and to marry.
“That is up for debate, sweetheart.”
Henry shakes his head.
“Like the card said, love. Forever and ever yours .”
“Why don’t you start by being my boyfriend?”
“I would love nothing more than that.”
***
It’s Christmas night, and Alex is drunk on happiness.
Once, he thought home was a fickle concept. Like a castle made of cards that could be blown away by an unpredictable gust of wind. Once, home shattered and he had to build it back up while walking on shattered pieces of glass.
Now, home is the loud laugh of his parents around a Christmas table, the feeling of June’s hair tickling his neck as he kisses her forehead, the way Nora’s hips move between his hands.
More than anything, home is the same rounded vowels of an English accent, calling him “love” before an insatiable mouth presses against his for another bruising kiss. Home is a warm body pressing against his under the sheets that don’t smell like his childhood ones, but that bear the inescapable scent of his now boyfriend, musky and sweet and everything in between that Alex wants to drown in.
It's large hands stroking his back and soft lips murmuring words of love into his curls until the wind’s lullaby finally reaches him and cradles him all the way into Morpheus’ kingdom.