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He's never quite figured out if these moments with Alex are nightmares or daydreams and known one way or the other with 100% certainty.
Sure, there are moments when everything's crystal clear, when he remembers that despite all the odds stacked against them, he and Alex are together, their happy ending finally secured. But then memories get warped, that telltale sparkle around them that he’s finally learned means they've been altered by tracker jacker venom.
There are some moments, though, when he's still unsure. Did Alex put his hands around Henry's throat when he offered the broth that helped restore Henry back to the closest thing to health they could achieve in the arena, or was the broth fed to him lovingly (albeit a bit forcefully, though Henry couldn't possibly blame him for that), each single spoonful a sign that Alex felt the stirrings of the same feelings Henry had been harboring for years?
There were other memories, too, that had been changed. The moment on the roof before their first Games, when he'd told Alex in the safest words he could use, given the ears and eyes that were constantly focused on them, that he didn't want to be a piece of the Gamemakers’ grand scheme to please Richards. Sometimes, he remembered that version of that last night free from the trauma the Games brought all of its survivors, but other nights, he lies awake envisioning the worst. There are nights when he wakes up screaming, the memory of Alex pointing a bow at him too tangible for him to shake off.
But then Alex is…well, the most understanding man Henry's ever known. He doesn't dare touch Henry in those moments, always waiting until Henry's stopped shaking before he makes any sudden moves. His voice is always there though. Soothing, cajoling… whatever Henry needs, Alex is there for him, and it makes the nightmarish moments all worth it.