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It’s frenetic, the low, insistent hum in Alex’s veins as he pushes through the smudged glass door with purpose. The small coffee shop is crowded, which, okay makes sense for the end of a mid-week workday. Everyone’s gotta get that hump day pick-me-up right? Great, his brain is so dumb right now. His thoughts are a swarm of honeybees, all frantically searching for that next hit of pollen or whatever it is that honeybees buzz around doing oh god he’s lost the plot again.
Alex figures he paints a pretty pathetic picture, standing just inside and to the right of the door of his favorite coffee shop in Greenwich Village; favorite due both to its proximity to NYU’s primary campus and his preferred barista’s heavy-handed espresso shots they pour him out of sympathy for his permanently exhausted expression. He’s clutching a box of chocolates. He practically ran to the European-sourced candy shop after his last class, waited in a very long line (honestly he should have seen it coming), and then backtracked twenty minutes here.
It’s Valentines Day. The chocolates are not for him.
He sees the hopeful recipient of said carefully procured chocolates almost immediately, hunched over one of his little notebooks in their usual corner. And just the same way it does every time Alex sees Henry, his mind calms, his thoughts narrowing down to sandy hair and pink lips, heard-earned smiles and understanding eyes.
The thing is. The thing is-
Henry is a friend. Well, now he is. First, Henry was a RIVAL. For like, a whole week. The obnoxious, seat-stealing college kid who’d usurped Alex’s table in the coveted corner spot that he’d claimed then abandoned for like ONE second and honestly who did this annoyingly perfect, white, English kid think he was, stealing the property right out from under Alex’s brown ass and muttering something unintelligible but surely rude as Alex stalked back out?
Alex didn’t usually study there on Mondays, but he’d had a paper due in two weeks he’d wanted to get a head start on while surrounded by the enticing smell of coffee beans. He’d thought it a fluke, but two days later who was there, again in Alex’s regular coffee shop in Alex’s regular seat on Alex’s regular day, scribbling away in his little notebook with nearly illegible yet somehow still delicate penmanship? Henry, as he was apparently called.
Alex marched up to him prepared for a fight to the death because coffee shop seats are Very Serious Business. But then it was Henry, apologizing with pink cheeks for his previous “stand-offish behavior” and “accidental seat thievery”. It was Henry, asking him if he’d like to share the table. And it’s been Henry, every week for the last ten weeks on Wednesday afternoons, even through Christmas break, studying amiably alongside Alex as they worked and chatted and slowly opened up to one another.
And listen, Alex was no stranger to appreciating a handsome man, alright? Objectively speaking, Henry had all the classic qualities that would make him universally swoon-worthy. Perhaps even the swooniest, which Alex is not sure is a real word but thinks Henry would know. Perfectly floppy blonde hair. Icy blue eyes that somehow made Alex feel so warm inside. Tall. Body like a goddamn marble statue all hidden away under cardigans and sweaters in soft, muted tones.
So maybe he flirted a little, sometimes, just because he could. He was straight, but what could it hurt? Alex didn’t have time to date girls right now apart from a stray hook-up here and there but Henry was right there every Wednesday, pursing his very full lips and wrinkling his brow and smiling the most adorable smile Alex had ever seen and blushing when Alex would call him sweetheart as a joke but suddenly it was February 7th and Henry called him “love” and Alex’s insides went all twisty and fluttery and oh no Henry is hot and funny and impossibly smart and so kind and Alex is maybe not as straight as he thought.
He’d swept up his books in a stuttering apology, muttering something about meeting his sister for dinner and rushed out, confusing visions of Han Solo and Senator Rafael Luna and his high school best friend Liam dancing through his head.
As it turns out, exactly no one in his life was shocked when he asked them what it meant that he maybe had an embarrassingly massive crush on a boy he’d been casually flirting with at his coffee shop. Nora had cackled so loudly he’d hung up on her in irritation before immediately calling her back to ask if she thought maybe he was bi? Because he definitely likes girls still. Turns out no matter how much he wanted someone to just give him the answer, that’s a thing he had to figure out for himself. He didn’t hate the way the label made him feel, really. Alexander Gabriel Claremont-Diaz: Mexican American, pre-law, son, brother, bisexual.
So.
So. Here Alex is, one week and one successful sexuality crisis later, to see if maybe the guy he’d just assumed was straight might actually be into dating. Dating Alex, specifically. Hopefully.
Alex drops into his usual seat in the chair across from the bench Henry currently occupies.
“And here I was, beginning to worry you’d stood me up,” teases Henry, his grin soft and fleeting as he tucks his pen into the crease of his notebook and closes it. “I’d thought maybe, only it is Valentines Day after all, perhaps you’d had someone else you planned to meet this evening instead.”
Alex can hear the unspoken question and takes it as an encouraging sign that Henry wants to know. “Instead of you? Never.” The retort is quick on his tongue, his body already relaxing into the familiar banter, heart beating just a bit faster at the mention of The Day. “A zombie apocalypse wouldn’t stand in my way. I’d break the sound barrier to get to you, sweetheart.” And there it is. The flush of pink across Henry’s cheeks, the quietly pleased smile dancing across those lips.
“Well. That’s quite...” Henry’s flustered. This is going well. Alex is flirting with intention now. “I got you a coffee, your usual. A sprinkle of cinnamon, wasn’t it? Should still be plenty warm.”
Alex feels a lot of things about the fact that Henry knows his coffee order and maybe wants to scream into his pillow about it later. “That’s perfect, H. Thanks.”
Henry beams a bit awkwardly and fiddles with the sleeves on his powder blue sweater. Alex figures it’s now or never. He pulls out the ribbon-wrapped box of chocolates and plops them on top of Henry’s notebook. “So I got these for you.”
“Oh?” Henry looks at the boxed, confused.
“You’d mentioned this place once as carrying your favorite chocolate this side of the ocean and I wanted to get them for you. For Valentines Day.”
“Alex I- when did I- that was months ago, wasn’t it? Only the first or second time we met up.”
“Yeah, well, I tend to remember things about the people that are important to me. So anyway, d’you want them?”
Alex has never seen Henry this flustered and he’s SO cute. “Yes, of course, Alex.” Henry pauses and Alex watches, desperately trying to read his expression. Henry juts out his chin, squares his jaw. Alex’s heartrate trips over itself at the display of confidence. “For Valentines Day, you say? Alex, this is lovely, thank you. May I ask why you thought of me, especially?”
There’s still time to turn this around, make it a friendly gesture and nothing more if Henry isn’t receptive. But Alex doesn’t think that’s going to be the case. He’s not trying to leave here with a friend tonight, not unless it has the word boy in front of it. In for a penny, as it were.
“Look,” Alex starts. “Maybe I’ve been reading the vibes wrong here but if you’ve got no plans for dinner tonight do you want to do that with me? Like as my date. I’m bi, I guess I should say,” Alex adds belatedly, wondering if that’s a thing he’s supposed to clarify when asking out someone of the same gender preference?
“I didn’t exactly get you fancy chocolate for Valentines Day as a friend thing, obviously. Full disclosure I thought I was flirting with you all these weeks as just like, a thing to do?” Alex continues in a rush, “and I didn’t really know why? But I maybe had this realization somewhat recently that I am in fact not as straight as I thought I was and you’re stupidly hot and smart and don’t make me feel like I’m too much when I start talking a lot and if you’re into this I want to take you out and buy you dinner and maybe kiss you later if that’s cool.”
A huff of laughter escapes Henry’s lips at Alex’s flood of words and before he can worry he’s being laughed at and rejected, Henry reaches out and lifts the gift, holding the box as though it contains something far more precious than small-batch, overpriced chocolate. Henry’s eyes meet his in devastatingly sincere blue and if Alex wasn’t a goner before, he certainly is now.
“Alex I would love nothing more than to have dinner with you this evening. I’ve been rather gone on you since I first accidentally stole your spot as you say.” He shakes his head through his smile. “I’ve grown quite attached to your bright and endless energy, your passion to help people, your ability to argue with a wall.” Henry’s eyes are twinkling now. “And if I can return the compliment, have you seen yourself? I would be quite amenable to each of your propositions. And, as it happens, I am very, deeply gay.”
Alex grins and Henry grins back and suddenly Alex doesn’t know what to do, he hadn’t prepared for this part, the part where the cute guy in the coffee shop would say yes.
“Okay! Well, I didn’t exactly make reservations or anything,” he says as he helps Henry gather his things and stow them away in his satchel. “How do you feel about Mexican food? I know a spot a couple blocks over, it’s legit.”
Alex wants to count Henry’s smiles; keep a list of each different kind he’s offered. This wide, happy, delighted grin would make the top-ranking spot. “Sounds perfect, love.”
And it is. It’s perfect when they’re squeezed together at a small linoleum countertop, Henry bravely trying each new level of spice Alex offers him, chasing it down with a split pitcher of margaritas. It’s perfect when Henry takes his hand as they walk over to an equally-out-of-the-way bar Henry’s been wanting to try, and when they sample the syrupy sweet pink specialty cocktail while Alex rants about the latest blatant gerrymandering the elected officials are trying to get away with back in his childhood hometown in Texas.
It’s perfect when Alex walks Henry home, listening to Henry share about the book of poems he’s writing as part of his senior project and the novel he hopes to publish one day. It’s breathtakingly, life-alteringly perfect when Alex’s hands find Henry’s waist and he rises on his toes to carefully press his lips against Henry’s, and even more so when Henry wraps his arms around Alex and kisses him back.
It’s utterly perfect when they move in together after they both graduate, and when Henry proposes to him two years after that, on their fourth Valentines spent together, well, Alex doesn’t think life could become any more perfect if he tried.