Work Text:
Henry honestly thought he was going insane.
It was the fifth time this week that Alex had called him his soulmate , and Henry was losing it - just a bit. And it was only Wednesday.
It’s not like it’s a new habit of his, to be fair. It’s something that Alex has done for years now, the two having been friends for a decade and counting. It started when they had gone to a party in their freshman year of college and got dragged into a game of fuck, marry, kill. A few rounds had passed and suddenly it was Alex’s turn.
The person who had gone before him piped up with their list, “Alex – fuck, marry or kill; Evan from science, Nora Holleran, and Henry.”
Everyone with their head still attached to their neck knew that Evan had been harboring a crush the size of Texas on Alex, but was too shy to make a move. Alex winced a little, a small movement that no one besides Henry caught – and, really, that was only because they had been friends for six years by then and Henry could read Alex blind. And Henry also knew Alex’s feelings towards Evan – non-existent, basically. So, ouch, rest in peace, Evan Thomas.
As for Nora Holleran, Alex’s ex-girlfriend (who is now dating his sister, June, actually, in a twist everyone and their mother could have predicted), the reasoning for putting her on the list was simple: Let’s see where Nora stands in Alex’s life, as if they haven’t been best friends since the moment they broke up. They had been both too similar and too different, and it was in both of their best interests to break up when they had.
But putting Henry on the list was just cruel.
It seemed everyone besides Alex Claremont-Diaz himself knew that Henry was head over heels in love with him. Had been since the first time he laid eyes on the man. There was something so captivating about him, something that made Henry want to wax poetic about everything that made Alex who he was. He was tall, dark, and handsome. He was funny, stubborn, and had a fire under his ass for no good reason. He was everything.
Henry was completely and utterly in love with Alex. But as far as he knew? That’s where the story ended.
Alex was not in love with Henry Fox, and that was something the man was just going to have to learn to deal with. And he was, honestly, dealing with it. Despite the fact that the two men spent almost every waking moment together, that was as far as their relationship was going to go and Henry was… fine. Henry was fine.
Really.
But when he heard his name be added to the fuck, marry, kill list presented to Alex, he still couldn’t help the way his heart sped up and his hands got clammy. He knew Alex, and knew the man would put him in one of two places – Kill or Marry.
Fuck was off the table because of course it was.
Kill, because it would be funny to say Alex would kill his best friend, when obviously he never would. Kill, because it meant Evan wouldn’t have to be that embarrassed about his own spot on the list whenever he found out about the results of the game, because they were sure to spread like wildfire the moment the group broke off to go do other things.
Marry, because Alex and Henry were close and it would be easy. Marry, because Alex couldn’t commit himself to Nora or Evan without complications and awkwardness. Marry, because, well, they kind of acted like they were anyway. Even if Alex didn’t return Henry’s feelings, as unknown to him as they were, he still clung to Henry like saran wrap and Henry was no better. They had their inside jokes, their outside jokes, their routines, their weekly coffee shop meetups (Henry refused to call them dates, even platonically), their everything.
Hell, sometimes people would come up to Henry and ask how his boyfriend was doing and when he expressed confusion, they would clarify that they meant Alex, and Henry would just about die on the spot. He corrected them, always, even if he wished he didn’t have to. Wished it was true. But, point is, Alex and Henry were… Alex and Henry, and marry would be an easy answer.
So Henry was prepared.
Or, so he thought. He should have known better than to put Alex in a box.
“Sure thing – Fuck Nora, obviously. Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt. Marry Henry because he’s my fuckin’ soulmate, duh. And kill Evan, sorry Evan, but I don’t know you like that.”
What.
???
Soulmate???
Everyone seemed to be having the same reaction as Henry because not a single soul spoke up, just looking at Alex like he’d grown a second head.
Alex, for his part, also looked very confused.
“What?”
Some girl that Henry forgot the name of spoke up, grinning, “Henry’s your soulmate, huh?”
Alex’s confusion disappeared and he grinned, big and bright, “Yeah! I mean, like, platonically, or whatever. But he’s my fuckin’ soulmate,” he nods, solidifying his statement.
Henry chose to ignore the few people that glanced at him with pity, and he chose to ignore the way his heart dropped into his stomach and exploded with pain.
Right. Platonically. Because that’s all it would ever be.
That was four years ago, and now Alex and Henry are one year removed from college and living in New York. Separately, but with how often Alex is over at Henry’s place and vice versa, they really should talk about moving in together to save money. That’d be the smart decision, anyway.
Today, Henry is in the middle of doing the dishes while Alex lounges on the couch a few feet away, and not for the first time, Henry is grateful for whoever invented the open-concept kitchen and living space. It gave him ample opportunity to look at Alex while he worked and it was nice.
Well, it was nice until Henry had to hide his facial expressions every time Alex brought up the damn soulmates thing. And again, it was the fifth time this week that he’d done it.
Henry’s gloved hands were covered in soapy water as he scrubbed a sponge against a particularly stubborn water spot on the wine glass he was holding. Why even use the dishwasher if he has to hand wash them all again afterward anyway?
“You know you’re my soulmate, right, Hen?” Alex asks, and Henry holds back a sigh as he glances up at the man, barely even pausing in his scrubbing. He looks at Alex for a moment, barely enough time for him to blink.
God, Alex was stunning. A pain in the ass, for sure, but stunning, both inside and out. He was currently sprawled out on the grey couch in Henry’s living area, one leg hanging off the edge and the other draped over the back of the couch. His shirt had ridden up a little and a sliver of hard stomach was on display. Henry, again, bit back a sigh.
“Yes, dear. And you’re mine. Though, really, I have to wonder why you’ve been bringing it up so often this week,” Henry says, looking back down at glass in his hand. He reaches over to set it on the drying rack and grabs another one.
Alex hums, “Mmm, dunno. Just been thinking about it. I really appreciate you, and I want you to know that.”
Alex must be feeling sentimental. Henry runs through a list of dates in his head and comes up with nothing. Their birthdays had already passed, the day they became friends wasn’t for another month, and there weren’t any special holidays coming up soon. Henry just laughs through his nose and continues cleaning the dishes.
“I know, Alex. And I appreciate you, too.”
He doesn’t need to be looking at Alex to know that the man is grinning.
A few moments pass by in silence, the only sound in the room being from the record player in the corner playing on low. It was a band that Henry had recently become enamoured with, Rainbow Kitten Surprise, and he’d immediately bought their newest vinyl to play while Alex was visiting. It was a really good album, Love Hate Music Box, and Henry hummed along quietly to the music.
And then he sees Alex sit up abruptly, placing his hands on the couch on either side of himself, and when Henry looks up at him, the man looks like he’d seen a ghost. Henry just looks at him, knowing that Alex would explain without him even having to ask. That was, of course, until Alex’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked extremely offended, glaring at Henry with all his might.
Henry’s eyes shifted back and forth as he waited.
“Holy shit,” Alex said, fingers gripping the soft material of the couch.
Henry’s own eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Yes, dear? What’s wrong?”
He thanks his lucky stars that he decided to set down the glass he was holding in an effort to focus on whatever crisis Alex was about to have, because the next thing he knows –
“How could you not tell me that the way I feel about you isn’t platonic?”
Three seconds pass and Henry is… not fine.
“I beg your finest pardon?” Henry asks, eyes wide, jaw dropped, hands frozen in the air.
“Yeah, Henry. I thought we told each other everything, and here I am, clueless and in love and you didn’t tell me?” Alex says, sounding offended and throw off balance.
Henry feels like he’s being punked.
“In- In love?? Alex, what are you on about? Are you being serious right now?”
Alex stops and looks at Henry, and they’re both just looking at each other, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Henry is completely out of words, and that’s quite alarming for a poet to be thinking. He drops his hands to the counter and leans against it heavily, needing the physical support so he doesn’t literally drop to his knees in shock.
Alex looks less offended by the minute and then says, “Wait, you didn’t know either.”
It’s not a question, and Henry can’t process anything that’s coming out of Alex’s beautiful mouth.
“Alex, I need to know if you’re being serious right now, because if not, this isn’t funny,” Henry says, voice soft and shaky. He barely notices the way his hands and knees are shaking, and he can’t rip his gaze away from Alex’s face, as if it holds all the answers he’s looking for.
The record player goes silent.
Alex, for his part, looks a little offended, a little hurt, a lot hopeful.
Henry is… Henry is dying inside. And maybe outside if Alex doesn’t start talking.
“Hen, no, I would never. I just– I’ve been thinking about how I truly believe you’re my soulmate, and I’ve always thought it was, like, platonic. But this whole week I’ve just been thinking about it and I can’t stop. You’re so fucking beautiful and I kind of feel like I’m going to throw up whenever I look at you. Wait, no – that sounded bad. I mean you just make me feel so bubbly and floaty and I never realized that that’s not normal until literally just now.
“Like, you’re just over there hummin’ and cleaning and I had this, like, fleeting thought that we would be so good together because I cook and you clean, and sometimes I clean and you order takeout. And how we’re always hanging out anyways and sometimes I want to kiss you when you’re just here doing domestic shit and, wow, that is so not platonic of me to be feeling and oh, my god, I need to stop talking.”
Henry rips the gloves off of his hands and is standing in front of Alex in three long strides.
“You mean that?” Henry asks, bringing his hands up to cup Alex’s face, staring into his eyes and trying to ignore the way his own are beginning to burn with unshed tears.
Alex tries to nod, looking back and forth between Henry’s eyes and lips.
“With every fiber of my being, I do.”
Henry mutters to himself, “Christ,” and pulls Alex’s face to his and–
They’re kissing.
Finally.
Henry is pressing his lips to Alex’s and there’s a brief moment where Alex doesn’t move and Henry almost pulls back when he feels a hand slide up his arm and cup the back of his head, tugging him impossibly closer to Alex.
Alex’s lips pressed against his own feels like heaven and, for the first time in a long time, Henry sends his thanks up to whoever is up there. He reaches one hand around the back of Alex’s head and grips , pulling a soft moan from the man in front of him. His back is hurting from the way he’s standing and Alex is sitting but it’s so perfect .
They kiss for what feels like forever, the sweet drag making Henry’s heart pound, before he pulls back and they’re both breathing heavily. Henry is looking in Alex’s eyes and Alex, for the first time, is looking right back and Henry feels like he could fly.
“I have loved you for so long, please, tell me one more time that you mean it. I don’t think my heart could take it if you didn’t. I need to be sure,” Henry says, keeping the hold he has on Alex’s head, feeling the way Alex is doing the same.
Alex smiles, something soft and fond, and pulls Henry in for another chaste kiss.
He pulls back and Henry almost follows him, not wanting to part for even a second now that he’s experienced exactly what it’s like to kiss Alex Claremont-Diaz.
“I promise, Henry. I think I’ve loved you just as long, I just didn’t know it yet.”
Henry laughs wetly, tears pooling in his eyes.
“Christ, Alex, I love you.”
“I love you, too, sweetheart.”