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Alex scans the sign-up list for the gingerbread house building competition, frowning.
He had done his best to promote the event, staying up until two in the morning creating a flyer to paper all over the school, and doing the homeroom rounds alongside other student body members. Still, only a handful of people have put their names down.
“This isn’t going to be any fun if no one participates,” Alex whines to Liam, sticking another pin into the paper to vent a tiny bit of his frustration. “What should we do?”
Liam contemplates the list of names. “Maybe we can get more lacrosse guys on it. They’ll listen to us.”
He has a point. They’re co-captains of the lacrosse team, and appealing to their teammates’ competitive spirits should see a few more sign-ups. “I’ll do it too,” he says impulsively, digging into his pocket for a pen. It might be enough to draw more of a crowd and thus more donations.
“Aren’t you one of the judges?”
Alex shrugs in response as he scribbles his name. “We can find someone else.”
“You know you can’t put this on your resume, right?” Liam teases. “And they probably won’t let you win your own event.”
‘It’s not my event,” Alex shoots back, pocketing his pen. “The whole student body team decided on it. After I suggested it.” He grins brightly at his best friend.
Liam looks away and clears his throat. “So, who are you going to get to judge instead?”
Hm. Alex is sure he can find someone.
At that exact moment, he spots a familiar face halfway down the hall and it clicks. “Pez!” he shouts a little too loudly. Around them, heads turn toward the sound of his voice and then away again. Alex pays their curious glances no mind, grinning as Pez catches his eye and makes a beeline for them.
“Alex,” he says brightly, clearly amused. “What can I do for you, darling?”
“Can you judge the gingerbread house competition?” he asks without preamble.
Pez glances at the flyer and then grimaces. “Rehearsals, sorry love.” Shoot, Alex had forgotten Pez is in the school musical.
“Fuck,” Alex says, crossing his arms and considering the list of participants.
“I mean,” Liam says hesitantly, eyes flickering between Pez and Alex. “I could .”
“You hate gingerbread,” Alex says, waving his hand dismissively.
“I might have someone who would be interested,” Pez offers, a smile playing on his lips. “Can I get back to you at lunch?”
—
“Absolutely not, Percy Okonjo.”
“Now, don’t be so quick to refuse, dearest,” Pez says earnestly, quick on Henry’s heels as he speed walks across campus. “What’s not to love about a gingerbread house building competition?”
Henry shoots Pez an amused look over his shoulder. “A lot. Besides, why would I waste my last class of the year judging it?”
“Because you love gingerbread?” his best mate suggests.
“Not that much,” he says airily as they turn left. Henry readjusts his backpack on his shoulder as they squeeze past a group hogging the path. While he loves gingerbread, he’s not inclined to get up in front of a room and watch a group of his peers struggle to assemble supermarket-bought made-to-assemble houses.
Pez speeds up and presses their shoulders together, lowering his voice. “What if I said Alex is participating now instead of judging?”
Henry feels his cheeks bloom with colour at the mere mention of Alex’s name. He readjusts his backpack again, just for something to do with his hands. “Of course he is,” he says. There isn’t a student body event or competition Alex wouldn’t be involved in; it’s just who he is. Always everywhere, constantly in Henry’s periphery and impossible to forget.
“I also may have promised him I knew somebody who would fill in for him.”
“Pez!” Henry stops in his tracks and turns to his best mate, eyes wide and stomach flip-flopping at the prospect.
“You don’t have to say yes,” Pez amends hastily, placing a hand on his arm. He offers Henry a reassuring look. "I’m not forcing you. I can ask someone else. I just thought…” He trails off, lips quirking up.
His blush reaches his ears. “You’re the most awful friend,” he says without heat. Pez’s smile turns blinding.
“Is that a yes?”
They reach their destination - the AP History classroom. Their classmates talk in small groups as they wait for Mr. Luna, textbooks clutched in their arms. Henry’s eyes immediately zero in on the curly-haired man holding court just outside the opposite entranceway, his deep voice carrying over the din and his smile bright. Henry’s eyes linger for a moment, heart fluttering in his chest.
“Fine,” he concedes, tearing his eyes away from Alex and focusing back on Pez. “Yes.”
—
“Thanks for stepping in for me,” Alex tells Henry before he can chicken out.
Henry glances up from his laptop, blinking in evident surprise as Alex grips the chair across from him and leans forward on it. The library is quiet, but not silent, as other students file in and chat amongst themselves. Some split off towards the shelves, others find tables to sit at with their friends and pull out books, notepads and computers.
“It’s not a problem,” Henry says, his accent stupidly smooth and sweet sounding. Alex kind of hates it, but kind of wants to hear it again. Weird.
“Is this your study period?” he asks, scanning the room so he doesn’t have to look at Henry’s face. The tables are all full now, though there are spare chairs. But he’s already here with Henry, so …
“Yes.”
Alex sits down before Henry finishes speaking, dumping his heavy backpack on the table with a thwack and immediately unzipping it. He rifles through, pulling out his textbooks and notebooks until he gets to the bottom and - yes, his chemistry textbook. He hates chemistry, but he wants to be well-rounded, alright.
“Sorry,” he says, realising his things have immediately migrated over the invisible line dividing their spaces. He reaches out and stacks his textbooks to the side, and then pauses as he realises Henry is glancing furtively at their titles. His blonde hair is parted off-centre, and this close, Alex can spot the freckles sprinkled over his cheeks.
“It’s alright,” Henry says, pulling his laptop closer. He sucks on his bottom lip as Alex gets settled, leaning his chemistry textbook upright against his stack and flipping open his notebook.
There’s a slight awkwardness between them; Alex can feel it pressing in on him, and it makes him anxious. He clenches and unclenches his fingers, wracking his brain for something to say to draw out the smile he’s spotted across the classroom. Something about Henry draws him in, though he doesn’t know him very well aside from classroom discussions and the odd run-in.
Alright, maybe just one run-in. A year ago. On Henry’s first day, Alex had been assigned to show him around. Henry hadn’t given him much to work with, remaining tense and tight-lipped despite Alex’s running commentary and incredibly funny jokes. That had been fine by Alex - he was obviously just shy - until the very next day, he had seen Henry relaxed and smiling with Pez, and had immediately frozen up upon Alex’s attempt at conversation.
But Henry had stepped in for Alex, and he was grateful for that. He obviously had to say thank you face-to-face; it's only right.
“Are you prepared for the test on Friday?” Henry hedges suddenly, watching Alex over the top of his laptop screen.
Alex groans. “Don’t even, man,” he gestures to his chemistry textbook and the scribbled notes in his notebook. “I have a chem test on Thursday to worry about first. History will be fine. I’ll cram the night before.”
Henry wrinkles his nose. Alex feels a fire begin to ignite in his tummy over his expression and opens his mouth to defend himself - he has to juggle lacrosse, student body president, debate team, volunteering and school work, alright - but then Henry surprises him again. “I’m not sure how you do it. Chemistry feels like an entirely different language.”
Oh. Alex swallows his bitchy remark and recalibrates around this Henry who can hold a conversation with him - who wants to hold a conversation with him. A Henry that isn’t fixing him with a blank look.
“Chemistry isn’t so bad,” he says, like a liar. He holds eye contact with Henry for a long moment and watches as Henry reads his expression and smirks. Alex huffs out a laugh, surprising himself. “Alright, it is really bad. I’m kinda-sorta-very screwed. And all I can think about is Christmas in two weeks.”
“You’re a Christmas lover?”
“Isn’t everyone?” Alex asks, eyebrows raising as Henry lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug. “What the fuck, Fox? How can you not like Christmas?”
Henry looks like he’s considering his words carefully, blue eyes drifting away and jaw flickering. Alex considers that he may have stepped into sensitive territory and grimaces, wishing he could eat the words.
“Do you think it’s cheating if I buy one of those assemble-it-yourself gingerbread houses and practice on the weekend?” he asks quickly, a tiny pinprick of satisfaction sparking inside him as Henry’s expression lightens.
“I’d say it depends. Are you asking me, the judge, or me, the…” his cheeks flush as he hesitates on the second choice.
“Friend,” Alex finishes for him, grinning across at him and leaning back in his chair, balancing on two legs and crossing his arms behind his head. Delight flits across Henry’s face. For some inane reason, Alex feels like he just won the fucking lottery.
“Well, in that case,” Henry says slowly, his full, pink lips curling into a soft smile, “I say go right ahead.”
—
Henry and Alex are the last two to finish their history test.
“Come on, Mr Claremont-Diaz, ten seconds,” Mr Luna says, standing in front of Alex’s desk. Alex is bent over his desk, nose inches from the paper and curls flopping over his forehead as he scribbles to the very end of the white space available. “Five .. four .. three …”
“Done!” Alex says, bursting upright and swinging backwards in his chair, arms raised victoriously.
“And who does this paper belong to?” Mr Luna asks, amusement colouring his voice as he taps the front page of the test.
“Oh fu- firetruck,” Alex corrects quickly curling over his paper again.
Shaking his head fondly, Mr Luna approaches Henry instead.
“Thank you, Mr Fox,” Mr Luna says, flicking through his paper and then snapping it shut. He gives Henry a kind smile that Henry hurries to reciprocate as he carefully puts away his writing equipment and pulls down his rolled-up sleeves. He hesitates as he stands, a small part of him envisioning waiting for Alex and walking out together, striking up a conversation and-
No. They had only studied together a handful of times. It might be weird. Henry shakes his head imperceptibly at himself and hastens out of the room as Mr Luna and Alex begin to chat, Luna leaning against his desk and grinning at something Alex is saying.
He’s almost at the end of the hall when there’s the squeak of joggers upon the linoleum and a shout of, “Fox! Wait up!”
Henry pauses at the sound of his surname and turns slowly, almost disbelieving. He watches as Alex jogs up to him, curls bouncing and dimple on show. “Hey!”
“Alex,” he says in greeting, automatically smiling at the other man as he draws close. His stomach does its usual little flip. Alex really is beautiful, and he looks particularly striking today in a white long-sleeved shirt and dark jeans.
“How’d you find that?” Alex asks, falling into step with him. “I thought it was fun; I enjoyed that. I expected it to be harder, honestly. I feel like there’s an overemphasis on a high-level analysis of the Cold War. At least, that seemed to be the case when June did it. I mean, I get it - it’s high school, there’s only so much time to learn and only so much they can assess us on, but I like that Mr Luna gives us so many extra resources. What question did you do, by the way? I chose the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia.”
He says all of this very quickly. Henry can’t help but smile about it; he likes how fast Alex’s brain works, and he likes listening to him verbalise his thoughts out loud even more. “I chose the Cuban Missile Crisis,” he tells Alex as they turn down another hall. “I found the class on nuclear non-proliferation and mutually assured destruction really interesting.” Their elbows brush as Henry hoists his bag higher on his shoulder.
“Oh, that was my second choice!” Alex replies happily, “Anyways, I have chemistry, so pray for me. What about you?”
“French,” Henry supplies. Technically, he’s running late. The second bell is seconds away from sounding, but against his better judgment, he finds that he doesn’t mind.
“Gross,” Alex says. Henry shoots him an amused look. Alex smiles innocently back.
“Bonne chance,” he offers as the bell rings overhead, just to see Alex’s reaction. The other man rolls his eyes, but the smile doesn’t leave his eyes.
For a moment, they stand at a crossroads - one way leading to his French class, the other toward the laboratories. Alex hesitates, and Henry does too, biting the inside of his cheek. There’s butterflies in his tummy as Alex surveys him like he too regrets having to part ways.
Henry really is late now, though. “You’ll be fine, I’m sure,” he says, and before he can think better of it, he pats Alex’s arm reassuringly and then turns on his heel, walking quickly toward his class.
—
Alex likes the brightness of the courtyard during his study period.
Lately, though, he’s found his feet leading him towards the library instead. He walks from the opposite side of campus, and it’s usually close to full by the time he arrives. So, it’s a good thing Henry spends his study period there. Alone. Always with a free seat across from him.
On the second and third day Alex had joined Henry, the blonde had surveyed him with a flicker of trepidation. The fourth time, he’d smiled.
He has a nice smile, Alex has realised. In class, it’s a simple lift of his lips before he’s sucked into the lesson again. With their classmates, it’s not quite as fleeting. Genial, he supposes. That’s the one he gives Alex when he sits down the fifth, sixth and seventh time.
Alex’s favourite smile, though, is the broad and gummy one Henry gives him when he says something particularly funny or after they get into a heated discussion. He tries to coax it free as often as he can.
Today, he comes bearing gifts he hopes will wheedle another one of those smiles out of him. “You said you like jabba cakes,” he says by way of greeting. “Well, guess what?” He pulls a small box out of his backpack and waves it in Henry’s face. “Ta-da!”
Henry blinks in surprise, but then the smile emerges in full force and Alex feels his chest warm at the sight. “Alex!” He says, taking the midnight blue package off of him and turning it over in his hands. His expression of wonder slowly morphs into something else though - suspicion.
“Is this bribery?” He asks, pointing the box at him accusingly and narrowing his eyes
Alex puts his hands up in surrender. “I never promised to play fair.” He grins as Henry’s face splits into a fresh smile. “No, I saw them at the grocery store,” he says sincerely, leaning forward on his elbows and surveying the blonde. “And I remembered you mentioning them. Open them. I want to try one.”
“Do you like orange and chocolate?” Henry asks, running his nail under the flap and prying it free. “By the way, it’s jaffa cakes.”
“Cakes?” Alex asks, unimpressed. “They’re biscuits. Look at them!”
“They’re cakes,” Henry says confidently and offers Alex the sleeve. He takes one and inspects it.
“Small. Biscuit shaped. Stored next to biscuits at Costco.” Alex raises his eyebrows over the biscuit.
“A court in the UK disagrees with you, I’m afraid.”
“What?” Alex asks a bit more rudely than he means to.
Henry doesn’t seem to mind. “The court found that Jaffa Cakes should be considered a cake and not a biscuit,” he explains. “For example, the texture was considered similar to a sponge cake, and it hardens when stale, like a cake does.”
“Wait, no way this was litigated?” Alex says quickly, mind spinning. “Was there, like, allegations of misleading advertising or something?”
“Not quite as exciting as that, I’m afraid. It had to do with what tax applied.”
Alex wrinkles his nose. “You’re right. Boring.” He cracks the biscuit / cake in half and inspects the middle. He’s not the hugest fan of jelly or orange and chocolate, but he’s willing to try anything once. He nibbles on a corner.
“Verdict?” Henry asks across from him. He rests his chin on his hand and fixes Alex with big blue eyes. He has sweater paws that Alex finds kind of endearing.
What he doesn’t find endearing is the cake / biscuit he’s currently attempting to swallow down. He grimaces and digs into his backpack for a muesli bar. “That,” he announces, “was fucking disgusting.”
Henry laughs and snatches the leftover biscuit / cake from his hand. “More for me, then,” he says brightly and pops half in his mouth.
—
Henry is staring out the window at the grey weather when his homeroom door bursts open and Alex appears in a Santa hat and a basket of candy canes.
“Mr Claremont-Diaz,” Ms Gupta greets warmly. “Here to deliver some presents, I see?”
“You got it,” Alex says cheerfully, grinning broadly. Henry watches him from across the room, eyes trailing over his red and green Christmas sweater and the way his forearms flex as he lifts the basket onto a free desk in the first row.
“Kath,” he reads out, and grins at the girl with a short bob comes up to collect her present.
“AJ,” he says next, and throws the candy cane underarm to blue-haired AJ in the second last row when they lift their hand.
“Andddd Allie, two for Allie, you go Allie!” he chirps, handing over the next two. Henry can’t help but smile at the reference, and the way Alex glows with happiness as he does his rounds, cheeks tinged with red.
Just as Alex is handing one to his friend Spencer in the final row, the bell sounds overhead and there’s a cacophony of scraped back chairs and chatter as everyone hastens to stand and spill out of the room. Henry hesitates for a moment, eyes on Alex’s back as he and Spencer chat, but part of him is unsure. He doesn’t want to interrupt them, and he can’t be late to French twice because of Alex Claremont-Diaz.
Or maybe he can, because just as he tucks his chair in Alex appears in front of him.
“Alex,” he greets, smiling at him as Alex rocks back and forth on his toes. There’s something going on inside his head; Henry can practically see the cogs whirring inside his brain. “Are you alr-”
“Here,” Alex says, shoving a candy cane into Henry’s hands. Henry blinks in surprise, accepting the blue, green and red candy cane and the tiny card attached to it.
“Oh, thank you,” he says, somewhat puzzled. Perhaps it’s from Pez, though. Or Jess from concert band who has been joining him and Pez for lunch lately.
“I’ve got to run to chemistry,” Alex tells him, eyes flitting between Henry’s face and his hands. He hikes his backpack higher on his shoulder and offers Henry a half smile. His cheeks are still red. “I’ll see you later?”
“Of course,” Henry tells him quickly, smiling back at him. His heart skips a beat in his chest as Alex ducks his head and scuffs his toe into the carpet. “I’ll be the one buried in French textbooks.” He adds on quickly. He’s been studying for his last test before Christmas holidays during their last three study periods together.
“I’ll be the one trying not to distract you, and probably failing at least once.”
Henry can’t help but chuckle. Alex is done with his assessment and spends his study period torn between trying his best not to chat Henry’s ear off and getting started on next year’s reading. “Perhaps you can make yourself useful and test me.”
Inexplicably, Alex flushes. He opens his mouth to reply, but-
“Guys, you’re going to be late for class,” Ms. Gupta interrupts from the front of the classroom. She has her laptop bag over her shoulder and a spare textbook in her arm.
Henry and Alex exchange quick looks and hurry out of the classroom. Henry does his best to ignore Ms. Gupta’s knowing look as they speed walk down the hall.
“Bye!” Alex says when they come to the fork in their paths and jogs off, curls bouncing. Henry takes a few seconds to watch him go before remembering the candy cane clutched in his fist. Curious, he flips open the card.
Dear Henry,
I hope you have a happy Christmas!
Yrs,
Alex
Henry stares down at the tiny card and Alex’s messy cursive, his heart banging inside his ribcage. A flood of warmth steals through him, reaching his cheeks and ears as he traces yrs, Alex over and over again until he realises he’s stopped breathing.
The second bell rings overhead, pulling him back into the present. Ruefully, he closes the note and sticks it in the front pocket of his jeans for safekeeping.
Yrs, Alex.
He covers his mouth as he grins. Then he laughs, quick and joyful, before he hightails it to French.
—
Alex regrets ever brainstorming this stupid fucking competition.
He stares down at his half-assembled gingerbread house and the way it’s sagging. The icing mortar is to blame, he’s sure. He had received the dodgy house kit due to bad luck, and now it's about to destroy any chances he had of coming in the top three, never mind win.
Gritting his teeth, he holds the third wall against the second and pipes more icing on the inside and outside. He could fix the mess up later. Maybe he’d outline the house in white so it blended in with the decorations … if he had time to finish decorating. He glances up at the clock at the front of the room - less than fifteen minutes to go.
His eyes drift to the judging table where Fiona, Marina and Henry sit in relaxed conversation. Henry looks nice today. So often, he dresses in grey and dark shades of blue, but today, he’d chosen a cream sweater and blue jeans.
Fuck. He needs to focus.
He bends over his gingerbread house and finally finishes the base. The windows on two sides are smudged from his fingers, but he could still win the judges over with his roof.
“Ten minutes to go!” Fiona says from the front.
Beside him, Chlo swears under her breath and flicks her red ponytail over her shoulder. Alex agrees with her. Gritting his teeth, he begins to decorate one side of his roof with links of semicircles in green and then red before switching to the other.
“Five minutes!” Marina says after what feels like seconds.
There’s a small sound of acknowledgement across the room. Alex starts on the next side of the roof, the curves are more sloppy, but he can practically hear the clock ticking down, down, down. He glances up again at the clock and hurries to begin fitting his roof on the top, adding more mortar and pressing down to fix it firmly together.
“Time’s up!” comes Henry’s voice, floating across the room. Alex steps back from his gingerbread house and grimaces at the final product. Art and decorating definitely isn’t one of his talents.
His heart sinks in his chest as one side of the roof begins to slide … slide … He glares at it, willing it to stay intact. If it can just stay there until the judges get to him. They’re onto the third competitor now, moving quickly.
He narrows his eyes as it slips again. And then it falls with a t hunk, shattering his hopes of a win.
Fuck.
He clenches his jaw as the three judges reach his row, scribbling in their notebooks. Alex knows he shouldn’t feel so upset over a gingerbread house of all things, but he can’t help but feel hot with disappointment and embarrassment. Especially as Henry arrives in front of him with a polite but apologetic smile.
“I’m going for an open-concept design,” he jokes reflexively as Fiona and Marina join Henry.
“I can see that,” Fiona comments lightly, standing on her tiptoes and peering into the depths. Alex wishes he had poured lollies in the middle for a few extra brownie points.
“Tsk, tsk,” Marina says, tapping her notepad with her pen and clucking her tongue. “Look, you have your base and some decoration, so it’s not a zero.”
“Hey, I made the roof pretty too!” Alex points out indignantly. “That counts!”
“Four,” Marina says.
“It’s at least a six,” Fiona argues, “Maybe the icing was faulty!”
Alex’s eyes flick to Henry. Henry’s eyes are already on him, steady and blue. “Six point five,” he says, lips quirked up.
“Round it up,” Alex tells him, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Six-point-four,” Henry amends, grinning at him.
“Boo, you whore,” Alex says flatly. The three judges giggle. Henry gives him one last lingering smile before they move on to Chlo.
Alex … does not win.
Nor does he come second or third.
He also has to hang about afterwards to clean up, so he’s in a pretty foul mood, to be honest. It’s not that Alex is a sore loser - at least not at school and at least not externally. But he doesn’t want to take his gingerbread house home, and he really fucking loves gingerbread, so …
“Alex.”
He pushes the final desk back into place and turns around. “Henry,” he says, a smile already tugging at his lips. “You know, if you’d given me a thirteen, I could’ve edged into third place.”
“A thirteen out of ten?” Henry asks, raising his eyebrows.
Alex smirks. “Okay. I guess I should’ve followed through and practised on the weekend.”
“I thought we were blaming the icing?”
“Oh, we’re definitely still doing that.”
They smile at each other for a long moment. Something warm prickles under Alex’s skin as he looks at Henry, and it’s like his gaze zeroes in until the only thing he notices is him.
“You know,” Henry says, almost shy. “If we had an award for best attempt, I’d have given it to you.”
“Oh yeah?” Alex finds himself asking, mouth dry and heart suddenly skipping in his chest. “What would the award have been, then?” First place had gotten a gift basket. Second and third place had gotten vouchers. What would Henry have given him?
Henry considers him with an expression Alex can’t quite get a read on. “What would you have wanted it to be?”
Feeling very brave, and being perhaps a little too audacious, he says, “Your number.” He swallows hard as Henry flushes pink. “We should keep in touch over the holidays,” he adds on quickly, fighting his own blush.
“We should,” Henry agrees, and Alex’s heart takes flight at the earnestness he sees in his expression. Alex takes out his phone quickly and passes it across, rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet as Henry types his number in. His eyebrows do a cute little furrow thing when he’s concentrating.
“Here you are,” Henry says softly, handing his phone back over. Alex pockets it without looking, too busy mulling over the swirl of feelings in his stomach. “I have to go. My sister is picking me up. Text me.” He smiles at Alex again, a bit more confident now, his eyes sparkling.
“Yeah, of course.” Alex manages. Henry gives him another parting smile and turns on his heel.
“Wait!” he says impulsively, his curiosity blazing white-hot inside of him. He grabs Henry’s wrist, swallowing his anxiety as Henry turns back around with a quizzical expression. “You didn’t tell me what my award would have been.”
Henry bites his bottom lip and considers him. Something simmers in the air between them; Alex realises he’s still holding Henry’s wrist, his skin smooth and warm beneath his fingertips.
“This,” he says finally and steps forward. He tilts his head down, and Alex forgets to breathe as Henry gently kisses his cheek. After a handful of seconds, in which Alex’s whole being ignites under the softness of Henry’s lips, Henry steps back and gives him another one of those sweet smiles. “See you after the holidays.”
Then he’s gone.
And Alex is left to recalibrate himself around the fact Henry Fox kissed him on the cheek.
Not just that. Henry Fox kissed him on the cheek and Alex maybe kind of definitely wished it had been his lips instead.
Slowly, he reaches up and touches the place Henry’s lips had been. Heart beating erratically in his chest, he finally realises what the feelings inside him really mean.
He has a crush on Henry.
And he’s pretty sure Henry has a crush on him right back.