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As Henry steps off the plane, his phone dings with another message. He takes a deep breath and buries his regret beneath the weight of the inhale in order to give himself the strength to look down at what he assumes is another message from Alex.
It’s not, though.
It’s Philip.
Why have I just heard you’ve gone on holiday with the American first son? Are you MAD? You must be. Call me immediately.
Henry stares down at the text for a long moment, his foot poised to move forward, but frozen.
“Sir?”
Another text comes through, this one from Alex, and Henry’s unable to look away fast enough to miss it;
Just tell me you’re okay? I just need to know you’re okay.
He blinks down at the message, vision blurring as tears flood his lashline. He glances up, towards the car, to Shaan standing between him and the car, and then back down at the phone.
It pings with another message.
Immediately means now, Henry. Drop whatever nonsense you’re doing and call me.
And then another.
If you’re worried I’m mad, I’m not. I’m just worried. I know you’ve got PPO’s and Shaan but I just have this feeling that something’s happened and even if you don’t want to talk to me I just need to know you’re okay. H, please.
Henry closes his eyes.
He’s got someone who’s meant to love him despite all that he is, but doesn’t. And then he’s got someone who should have realized he isn’t worth loving at all, only there he is, an ocean away, left behind with only a note, loving Henry anyways. His hand clenches tight around his phone as he blinks against the harsh lights of the private airport and glances over his shoulder back at the plane.
“Sir?”
He flips back around, gaze settling on Shaan, who’s standing beside the car, holding the door for him.
Another text comes in.
You don’t have to love me, you just have to tell me you’re okay.
And another.
I know you’re reading these, and I won’t be ignored. We need to discuss your choices.
He glances up at Shaan again, helplessness tingling along his spine. His mouth opens and closes once, twice, and then Shaan, seemingly understanding all that he can’t get himself to say, quietly closes the door and steps up to the stairs, holding his hand out. “I’ll discuss with the captain. Please, take your seat.”
Henry stares at him. “Shaan . . .”
Shaan nods, his hand falling to his side. He seems to think over what to say for a moment, before softly, “I’ve got your back whatever you do.” He says it with conviction, as if no matter where Henry goes—to the car, or back to his seat on the plane—he won’t be entirely alone.
But the truth of the matter is simple: Shaan is employed by the crown.
So wherever Henry goes from here, whatever choice he makes, Shaan may be at his side, but he’ll hardly be an anchor. Hardly a voice in the room speaking up in Henry’s defense.
Go home or go back to Alex. Admit defeat or admit he’s in love, which is somehow just as terrifying as going home and shrouding himself in that loneliness again.
One scenario he continues to be voiceless, continues on beneath the weight of expectation and failure. Continues on alone because his mother isn’t going to help him shed the shackles; Philip’s likely to tighten them. His grandmother—Christ, she’ll throw him in the dungeon before she gives him the gift of his own voice. Bea will be there, but she’s as defenseless against them as he is.
But if he gets back on the plane.
If he goes back; fixes this before his fear shatters it completely—
He won’t have to be alone.
Whatever comes, whatever happens . . . Alex loves him.
He closes his eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath, because this is the first time he’s allowed himself to accept that sentence for what it is. Alex loves him. There are a thousand years between now and Rio and falling in love and accepting it’ll never be reciprocated. A thousand kisses and a dozen hotel rooms. Texts and FaceTime calls and—and
Henry can’t say goodbye to all that.
He can’t.
He opens his eyes.
He won’t.
“I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
Shaan nods, not in agreement, but acceptance. “I’ll discuss with the captain,” he repeats.
Henry nods numbly, quietly turning on the steps to look back at the cabin of the plane. The sole attendant stands at the entrance, and she silently moves to the side as he takes a step up the stairs and reenters the plane. He slips past her and moves to the back, reclaiming his seat and looking down at his phone.
Neither his brother nor Alex have texted, but he still pulls open the texting thread with each of them, replying to Philip.
We can talk when I return.
And then, he looks over the texts from Alex, the few he’d read, and the couple that predate it—questions of where he is, if it’s because of what he said, the gentle pleas for him to answer the phone. He bites his lower lip, before taking a deep breath and clicking into Alex’s contact and pressing the call button.
He answers before the first rings even ended.
“Are you okay?”
Not hello. Not any kind of aggression—his first words are concern over Henry’s wellbeing. Which is more than he deserves and could ask for. Which is Alex in a bloody thumbnail, isn’t it? More than Henry deserves and everything he could ask for.
Henry runs a hand over his mouth. “I’m so sorry,” he croaks, the words catching at the back of his throat as tears, yet again, well at the corners of his eyes.
Alex is quiet for a moment. And then, “But are you okay?”
“I will be.”
A quiet sigh followed by a sniffle—the smallest glimpse into what Alex is feeling. “Good,” he murmurs, his own voice hoarse. “That’s good.”
Henry hesitates, closing his eyes and pressing his head into the headrest.
“I shouldn’t have left.”
There’s a small pause, some shuffling noises as if Alex is picking the phone up, and then suddenly his voice is so much clearer when he says, “What?”
“I panicked.”
“No, yeah,” Alex says. “I clocked that when I woke up and you were gone.” There’s a hint of aggression there, and Henry can’t blame him.
Henry swallows. “Are you mad?”
“Now that I know you’re okay?” He huffs, a quiet little mad sounding laugh. “I don’t fucking know what I am, Henry.”
Henry nods. “That’s fair.”
Alex sighs. “Is this it, then?” He asks. “Are you ending things?”
Henry opens his mouth to reply, but there’s movement at the front of the plane. He looks up, finds Shaan standing there.
“We’ll leave as soon as they’re finished refueling.”
“Thank you, Shaan.”
Shaan nods, and then turns to exit the plane once more.
He brings his attention back to the phone. “I’m coming back,” he says, soft. Hesitates again at the quiet intake of breath that comes from the other side of the line. Adds, “If that’s all right?”
“You’re coming back?” Alex asks. “Here?”
“If you’ll have me.”
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why would you come back? I—didn’t you leave because of what I said?”
Henry looks down at the floor. “Yes,” he admits carefully, “But if you’ll let me explain—”
“When are you landing?”
“I—I don’t know yet.”
Alex takes in a big, deep breath. “Text me when you know. I’ll meet you at the airport.”
“Alex—”
“We’ll talk, then,” He interrupts. “I don’t—I can’t have this conversation over the phone with you on the other side of the world.”
“All right,” Henry murmurs.
And then, as if to make light of the situation, Alex adds, “You’d better hope the climate protestors don’t find out about this, or your ass is grass, Your Majesty.” It’s enough to dredge up a small smile that ticks the corners of Henry’s lips up.
“I’ll be sure to make a generous contribution.”
Alex clicks his tongue. “Think it’ll take more than that.”
The words are much more somber, tinged with double meaning.
“I know,” Henry says softly, holding the phone tighter. “Do you think they’ll forgive me?”
A long silence passes.
“You’re the prince of their hearts,” Alex eventually says. “I can’t imagine they won’t.”
The plane lands just after two in the morning, and as promised, Alex is waiting. He’s standing by the car, his hands tucked in the front pockets of his jeans, quietly watching Henry deplane. He doesn’t move until Henry’s a few steps away, and then he nods, and pushes away from the car. “Think Shaan can meet us at the house?” He asks.
Henry looks to Shaan.
“It’s just a ride away,” he says.
Shaan nods, turns to the PPO’s with him, and the three of them walk towards the car specifically provided for Henry and load into it. Henry turns his attention back on Alex, and Alex bites his lower lip before nodding and walking around to the drivers side of the car. “Come on,” he says, when Henry makes no move to follow. “I wanna make a stop.”
Henry gets into the passenger side of the car. “Where?”
Alex shrugs, turning the car on. He grips the steering wheel and then turns to look at Henry. “Trust me?”
As if there’s any doubt to that.
“Always,” Henry says, tilting his chin up in case Alex does stupidly believe that’s a fact he can doubt.
Alex’s gaze rakes over him, and then he nods. “Good,” he says, “because there’s gonna be a patch of road you’re going to worry that I’m taking you out to the woods to kill you.” He turns back to the steering wheel and puts the car in drive. “Just know that I’m not.”
And he’s not kidding—no less than ten minutes into the drive, they took a suspicious turn into a slightly wooded area that’s eerie and creeping in the dark. It doesn’t help that Alex doesn’t talk to him; seemingly waiting until they arrive at their mysterious destination to make conversation. For a moment, Henry really does consider that Alex is taking him out to the woods to kill him as punishment for leaving.
And then.
There’s a break in the trees casting over a dark, looming lake. Alex drives the car right up to the edge and turns it off and they sit in silence for several minutes as Henry takes in their surroundings. He leans forward to look up at the sky—the millions of stars that reflect off the like like something out of a dream. He’s not even sure he could find Orion if he tried, and for the first time in a very, very long time, that doesn’t scare him. Doesn’t force loneliness and grief to come creeping in like shadows.
Finally, he turns to look at Alex—finds Alex’s eyes already on him.
“I suppose drowning’s a better way to go than being buried alive,” Henry says.
Alex’s lips curl a little. “Then, you’re gonna be real devastated when I tell you I’m not drowning you, either.” He sniffs, and turns to get out of the car, quietly opening the back door and pulling a blanket out from the back seat. “We’re gonna sit on the hood,” he says, motioning to it with the blanket.
Henry moves to open his door, but then Alex is moving around the car and before he’s even managed to pull the handle, Alex is there, holding the door open with the hand holding the blanket, while the other is stretched out for Henry to take. Henry watches him for a beat, his eyes stinging as he carefully reaches out and places his hand in Alex’s. Alex gives him a closed lip smile and steps aside, and Henry takes that as his cue to get out of the car.
He half expects Alex to drop his hand, but instead, his fingers squeeze around Henry’s, and then gently tug him around the front of the car, letting go only to unfold the blanket and drape it over the hood of the car.
“Can’t have a prince sit on a dirty hood,” Alex murmurs, turning and holding his hand out for Henry’s again.
Henry rolls his eyes. “I’ve certainly been in dirtier places,” He says, taking Alex’s hand and allowing himself to be led to the front bumper.
“Been dirtier in places, too,” Alex murmurs, the tone almost playful, as his free hand settles on the low of Henry’s back, helping to boost him up onto the hood.
“I seem to recall you playing a part in those places,” Henry says lowly as he turns and sits on the hood of the car, squeezing Alex’s hand. Alex stares up at him for a moment, biting down on his lower lip before squeezing his hand back and climbing up onto the hood next to him, draping himself over the windshield.
“Sometimes I think about the tack room,” He admits after a moment.
“Only sometimes?”
It startles a laugh out of him; he turns his head, shaking it at Henry. “Fine,” he says. “It’s practically all I think about a lot of the time.”
“Good man,” Henry says, leaning back against the windshield, as well, careful to avoid pressing his weight into the glass lest it breaks. It holds firm against both their weights, and he takes in the view before them. The stars cascade around them, reflected in the lake and the utter darkness of the small wooded area. It’s not like at the lake house, where the lights of the house break the illusion—here, they feel utterly alone. Lost in time and place and drawn in by the sprinkling starlight dancing all around them.
It’s quite possibly the most romantic setting Henry’s ever been in.
He turns to look at Alex.
Alex keeps his eyes trained on the sky. “I had a feeling something was wrong,” he admits without looking over. “Last night when you went to bed. I just . . . shook it off. I should’ve woken you up. I should’ve stayed up. Made you talk to me.”
Henry shakes his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Alex scoffs softly, finally turning to look at him, his face scrunched up. “You told me at the beginning what this could be, because of who we are and I just . . . completely forgot about it, as if we’re just two normal guys living normal lives. That wasn’t fair of me. It’s not that easy for you, and I know that.”
Henry opens and closes his mouth, unable to form a reply.
“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you, but once I realized that I had, I realized that it was the best fucking feeling I’ve ever felt. Loving you felt right.” Alex turns away, his eyes gleaming beneath the starlight. “It felt more right than the election and law school and whatever else is happening in the world or in my head. I just realized I loved you and it was like. Yeah. ” He nods, his voice going raspy as he adds, “I love him.”
He shrugs almost helplessly. “And the rest of it all just . . . fell away.”
“I wish it were that simple for me,” Henry murmurs, watching him. “Not just in regards to my family or,” he waves a hand, “Any of that. But . . . I never for one moment thought you could possibly love me back.” Alex’s head whips around, mouth opening around a reply, and Henry holds his hand up. “I suppose I believed you’d get what you need, and then you’d move on, and I’d go back to the way things were.”
“The way things were?”
“Loving you from afar.”
Alex’s brow furrows, and Henry scoots in, dropping his hand between them. “I fell in love with you so long ago, that loving you has become a part of me. I wake up loving you, I eat, breathe, and sleep loving you. I came on this trip because I love you and I wanted to soak up as much time as I could until I eventually lose you, and then, instead, you shattered every expectation I have. Decimated my beliefs. And, restructured the very integrity of the walls I built around my future.”
“We can make this work,” Alex whispers, scooting in as well. “I know there are crazy logistics, and that it won’t be easy, but we can make this work.”
And that’s the thing. Henry had gotten on that plane with the belief that there’s no world wherein the two of them could work. No possible future where he and Alex can be happy and in love and it doesn’t get snatched away from them.
But by the time he’d landed, all that fell away. In its place stood a future they could have. A million different avenues they could walk, but one solid foundation to keep them standing: Alex loves Henry and Henry loves Alex, and he is certain that their love is strong enough to keep them together should the rest of it all come tumbling down.
Alex’s tenacity, and Henry’s lust for more.
The fire under Alex’s ass keeping them warm even when the rest of the world goes cold.
Henry turns to look out over the lake. A bird dips into the water, and then flies off; he watches the ripples from where it touched spread out over the glassy surface.
“H?”
“I want a future with you,” Henry says, turning to look at him once the ripples have faded away entirely. “I want to love you for as long as you’ll have me.”
Alex makes a face. “And if I said that I don’t think I could ever stop?”
Henry wrinkles his nose. “Bit cheesy, innit?”
Alex laughs, rolling his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, you asshole,” He says, playfully shoving Henry’s shoulder. “I’m being serious.”
“I know,” Henry offers. “But it was cheesy.”
Alex rolls his eyes again, taking Henry’s hand and pulling it into his lap, his fingers twiddling with Henry’s. He looks down at their hands for a moment, his smile slowly falling, until, softly, he says without looking up, “Tell me what you want to do.”
Henry squeezes his hand, ducking his head low to meet Alex’s gaze. “I want to try,” he says, when Alex’s gaze meets his. “I want to love you. All right?” He pulls their hands up to his chest, vision swimming as tears start to pool. “I want to love you. And be loved by you. I don’t care about any of the rest of it.”
“I do,” Alex says, nodding at him, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I love you and I’ll keep loving you. I won’t stop. No matter what.”
“Eventually we’ll have to care about the rest of the world.”
“But not now,” Alex says. “Not out here. Not in here,” he turns his hand over against Henry’s chest and presses his palm against the place where his heart lies. “We don’t have to face anything you’re not ready to. I can be your sexy dirty little secret.” He feigns a gasp. “I’ll be your secret consort.”
Henry looks at him unimpressed. “You’re not my consort.”
“Oh? Then what am I?”
“A menace.”
Alex smiles. “And?”
Henry tugs him in closer. “A plague.”
“Mm,” Alex hums, knocking the tip of his nose against Henry’s. “And?”
“The bane of my existence.”
“Getting closer, sweetheart,” Alex breathes, his free hand coming up and settling gently on the side of Henry’s throat. “And?”
Henry sighs against him. “My partner.”
Alexs lashes flutter, a gently butterfly affect against the rise of Henry’s cheekbone. “I like the sound of that,” he murmurs.
“Yeah?”
Alex nods. “Think I’ll seal it with a kiss.”
“I wouldn’t object.”
“Think you’ll turn into a frog?”
“I despise you.” But Alex doesn’t close the distance, and Henry sighs. “I don’t think it works like that.”
“Hm,” Alex hums, “Shame.”
And then, wonderfully, they’re kissing.
There’s something different about the kiss—an open freeness that hadn’t been there before. Their feelings coursing through it love given and love reflected. Much like the stars offer their light and the lake shares it with the trees.
It feels like forever in the same way as Alex’s hand pressed to his heart between them.
A promise.
Whatever comes, they won’t face it alone. Be it the rain or the storm that follows. Henry’s family or the rest of the world, their hands will remain entwined, their hearts stitched together sharing the same beat.
The wind rustles the trees and their hair, a soft respite to the Texas humidity, and Henry presses into Alex more firmly.
Partners.