Work Text:
How To Study When Your Neighbor Is Dying Of Tuberculosis
1. Ignore him
2. Turn music up
3. Purchase noise cancelling headphones on Amazon
4. Go to the library
5. Go to the 24-hour diner three blocks away
6. Call June to vent your frustration
7. Murder?????????????
Alex cuts a severe look at the wall as his neighbor sneezes six times in a row on the other side, and he deletes the question marks.
Until four days ago, the man who lives next door was a relatively good neighbor.
Alex would hear the occasional bark of a dog, the whistle of a tea kettle, or the beep of a six a.m. alarm. No loud music or parties. No yapping loudly on the phone. No headboard banging against the wall, followed by deep moans….
Alex stops that train of thought with a sharp shake of his head. He’s not going down that road, no matter how attractive he might find the man. Or at least he did find him attractive before he came down with the Spanish flu.
They’ve only met briefly once in the building lobby while Alex was checking the mail, a task that Alex had been sorely neglecting.
An avalanche of corporate holiday cards, magazines, and credit card offers came spilling out at his feet. It was a challenge to pick them all up with the puff of his down jacket, causing his laptop bag to fall off his shoulder and his overstuffed backpack to mess with his center of gravity as he knelt down on the floor, wet with the slush he tracked in from the sidewalk.
He was gathering it into a messy pile in his arms when he heard footsteps behind him—first the heavy fall of boots, then a gentle thumping of something much lighter. When he looked over his shoulder, he was nearly face to face with a beagle in a bright red sweater and matching boots velcroed around his paws.
“Oh. Hi.”
“You don’t look like June,” a voice said as a pair of dark Chelsea boots stepped into view.
Alex tilted his head back and followed the line from boots to dark wash jeans to a camel-colored peacoat and a red scarf to a devastatingly handsome face—a sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and blue eyes topped off with a perfectly coiffed head of soft blond hair.
It was a good thing Alex was already on his knees; otherwise, he would have fallen to them.
“I’m Alex,” he said as he stood up, “I’m June’s brother. I’m—-apartment sitting—,” he had said since their subletting agreement wasn’t exactly by the books, “while she’s on assignment in DC. Good timing, too. My old landlord raised the rent suddenly, like a dick—.”
The man cleared his throat, and Alex took the hint.
“Right, whatever, it’s nice to meet you.”
Alex had shuffled the stack of mail to one side so he could hold out his hand, and a ten-dollar-off coupon for a local Chinese restaurant fluttered to the floor.
They both watched it, and even though the other man was only holding a dog leash in one hand, he made no move to pick it up.
“Okay,” Alex said under his breath as he knelt down to grab it, causing two more envelopes to fall.
“If you wouldn't mind,” the man had huffed, and Alex peered up at him.
“Wouldn’t mind what?”
“Stepping out of my way. I’m trying to get to my mail.”
“Oh,” Alex had said as he picked up the fallen items, “you could’ve just said that.”
“I just did.”
“Right,” Alex said as he side-stepped out of the way so the man could unlock the box next to June’s. H. Fox.
“You’re June’s neighbor….she said that she was gonna give everyone a heads-up that I would be staying there so no one called the cops on me.”
“I’ve been in London for the holidays,” H. Fox said. “I only returned yesterday.”
“That must have been fun, you know I’ve always wanted to—.”
“If you’ll excuse me,” H. Fox interrupted, stepping away as the elevator stopped in the lobby, its doors opening with a ding.
H. Fox (and his dog) stepped inside, making eye contact with Alex as he pressed the close door button.
“Dick,” Alex had mumbled before the doors were fully shut.
He’s not sure if H. Fox heard him. Pretty sure it doesn’t matter now that H. Fox is dying of whooping cough. Alex just wishes he was doing it somewhere else.
It’s fucking crunch time. Alex takes the bar exam in six weeks. He doesn’t really have time to be distracted by his stupidly hot, rude neighbor wasting away like a Victorian child.
Alex has really tried it all to minimize the distraction. Ignoring it lasted approximately forty-five minutes. Turning his music all the way up gave him a headache. The noise-canceling headphones that he ordered from Amazon (paying extra for next-day shipping because, apparently, Prime does fuck all nowadays) didn’t cancel shit. The library closes too early, and the 24-hour diner gets too chaotic when the bars close. The long-winded voicemails he left June accusing her of withholding the vital information that her neighbor was an asshole were met with a simple but scathing ‘Grow the fuck up.’
The only option left is murder. Good thing Alex is gonna be a lawyer.
H. Fox coughs so hard that Alex’s own throat aches with sympathy. Alex knows that if he were in his expensive shoes, alone in a foreign country and infected with scarlet fever, he would like some grace from his neighbor.
But then H. Fox sneezes like a fucking cartoon character, some real A-CHOO shit, and every ounce of sympathy vacates Alex’s body.
—
Most days, Alex doesn’t let the fact that he missed the bar exam back in July bother him.
He knows now that June was right to stage her intervention—he wasn’t eating or sleeping or leaving his pathetic, little apartment. He wasn’t even retaining any of the information that he was studying. It was more about going through the motions at that point—reading and rereading coursework, taking and retaking practice exams, writing and rewriting essays. His body knew what to do, but his brain was turning to mush. If June (small but mighty as she is) hadn't kidnapped him back to Austin, he knows he would have failed.
And Alex doesn’t fucking fail.
He spent the summer on the lake, eating his mother’s cooking and soaking up the sun. He felt like he could breathe for the first time since he was thirteen. He didn’t have to worry about extracurriculars that would look good on his college resume.
He returned to the city in the fall with a clear head. He found a job at a non-profit in Brooklyn, giving legal advice to young people seeking asylum, emancipation, or just someone to talk to.
It’s emotionally and professionally fulfilling, and it stops him from falling into old habits—locking himself away with his books and practice tests. But Alex can’t deny that it can be draining. Some people need more help than he can give. Sometimes, after a long day, he feels like taking his ass to a bar and drowning his sorrows in something smooth and strong.
He’s still debating if he wants to drop his shit off in his apartment and change into something a little less comfortable but a lot more flattering as the elevator door opens, and he steps out onto his floor.
He only makes it two steps before H.Fox’s door opens, and he steps into the hall, his dog following him.
They’re bundled up, the dog in his sweater and boots, and H. Fox has his collar turned up against his face, his nose red, and his eyes puffy.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, right?”
H. Fox looks down the hall and sniffs loudly. “Excuse me?”
“You really think you’re healthy enough to leave the building?”
“David needs his after-dinner walk,” H. Fox says, “And what would you know of my health?”
“What would I know—,” Alex cuts himself off with a laugh. “What would I know of your health? A whole fucking plenty considering I’ve been listening to you hack up a lung for the past five days.”
If possible, H. Fox goes even paler. “You can hear me?”
Alex nods. “This is a new building, these walls are thin as fuck, and usually I wouldn’t care what kind of noises you’re making in the privacy of your own apartment, but nighttime is my study time, and I can’t fucking focus when you’re sneezing ten times in a row, and now you want to take your bubonic plague on the road to infect the rest of Manhattan?”
“It’s a simple head cold,” H. Fox tells him, and Alex scoffs.
“Okay, Typhoid Mary.”
H. Fox rolls his eyes. “This is a pointless conversation. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must walk my dog.”
He tries to step around Alex, but Alex cuts him off.
“Could you please let me by?”
“I will,” Alex says, “as soon as you can look me in the eye and honestly tell me that you feel well enough to make it to the elevator, never mind all the way outside.”
H. Fox opens his mouth to speak, only to turn and cough into his elbow instead.
Alex hums.
“I’m not sure what you expect me to do,” H. Fox says, his body slumping against the doorframe. “I was using a dog walker—a lovely woman with plenty of excellent references who I found on Rover—for the past few days, but she cancelled on me last minute. Something about not feeling well—which I’m sure was completely unrelated to my current state,” he adds quickly.
“Oh, of course,” Alex says sarcastically. “It has absolutely nothing to do with you being the human equivalent of the Outbreak monkey.”
H. Fox rolls his eyes. “I don’t feel well,” he admits, “but I have an obligation to David, and I have to honor it.”
“You’re going to pass out in the middle of the street.”
“But at least David will get his walk in.” He readjusts his collar, pulls a pair of gloves out of his pocket, and puts them on. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
He steps to his right while Alex steps to his left, blocking him.
“I’ll do it. I’ll take your dog for a walk.”
H. Fox huffs. “You think I’m going to hand my dog over to a perfect stranger?”
“I’m not a stranger,” Alex says, “I’ve introduced myself. Maybe you don’t remember because you blew me off right in the middle of it. If anything, you're the stranger. I don’t even know your name.”
“Henry. Fox. I’m sorry about that day in the lobby—.”
“Whatever,” Alex interrupts, lifting his bag over his head and holding it out. “Here. Take my laptop as collateral. If anything happens to your dog while we’re out, you’re free to wreck my shit.”
Henry scrunches his nose. “David is worth more than your laptop, both monetarily and emotionally.”
“Fair,” Alex says as he holds out the bag. “But my laptop has everything on it. My notes, my study guides, my schedule, my lists….I would be lost without it.”
“Are you still in school?”
Alex shakes his head. “I graduated last year, but I’m studying to take the bar exam at the end of February. It’s very important to me. Maybe the most important thing.” He pushes the bag at him. “I’m handing you my life.”
Henry looks at the bag then down at David before he sighs.
“As am I,” he says as he takes the bag and hands Alex the leash. “We usually walk up to Union Square,” he explains as he pulls a pouch of treats and a roll of poop bags out of his coat pocket. “There’s a fenced area where he can be off-leash. He won’t play much because it’s cold, but he enjoys getting a good sniff in. He’ll let you know when he’s had enough. He’s very friendly, if anyone asks, toward both dogs and people, and he loves children, not that I think you’ll see many out this late. He also found a piece of pizza in a bush on the corner of third and fourteenth about a month ago, so he’ll want to linger there to look again, and he howls at sirens, so don’t be alarmed.”
“I feel like I need to write this down.”
“I fear if you can’t remember that, there’s no hope for you passing the bar.”
“Ha-ha,” Alex says flatly. “We’ll be back soon.”
“Okay,” Henry tells him. “Okay. If you’re certain.”
“I am,” Alex promises. “We’ll be fine.” He holds up three fingers and grins. “Scout’s honor.”
Henry hums, sounding unconvinced, but he pats David’s head and says a quiet goodbye. David wags his tail then trots happily behind Alex when he leads him down the hall toward the elevator.
Alex waves to Henry as the doors close, then looks down at David as the elevator descends.
“So, David, huh? What do you think about that?”
David’s tail thumps against the floor.
“We could probably sue your dad for damages. If you give me a few months, I can represent you.”
David smiles up at him, and Alex shrugs.
“You think about it.”
Manhattan at this time of the year leaves a lot to be desired.
The Christmas decorations have come down, most tourists have gone home, and any lingering snow has turned grey.
It’s bleak, and Alex knows it’ll get worse before it gets better, but it’s hard to dwell on the upcoming darkness while walking with David.
He doesn’t pull on the leash or try to eat garbage off the sidewalk. He howls at a firetruck and then an ambulance before being stopped by a group of young women dressed in short skirts and high heels who surround David on all sides, complimenting his sweater and boots as they pet him.
David walks with a little extra spring in his step the rest of the way to Union Square, and Alex laughs to himself as he lets him go inside the dog run.
David sniffs around, does his business, and sniffs around some more. He briefly plays with a golden doodle before begging its owner for treats. Then, he wanders back to Alex and sits at his feet.
“Does this mean you’re ready to go home?” Alex asks as David’s tail wags against the ground.
They start back toward the apartment, walking on the opposite side of the street so David can get some new smells in. Alex lets the WALK signal cycle through three times on the corner of third and fourteenth so David can inspect the pizza bush, his body disappearing halfway into it, tail flying a mile a minute.
“Don’t eat anything you find in there,” Alex warns. “God, the last thing I need is for you to get sick. Henry might be on his deathbed, but I’m pretty sure he could still kick my ass. He’s so tall,” Alex says softly. “And his shoulders are so broad. He’s hot, obnoxious and suffering from whooping cough, but hot. Don’t tell anyone.”
A couple passing by eye him warily, and Alex smiles.
“Just talking to my dog,” Alex tells them, nodding down toward David’s butt sticking out of the bush.
The couple walks a little faster, and Alex frowns. He looks after them until the fluorescent glow of a Duane Reade sign catches his eye.
Alex tugs gently at David’s leash, and he emerges from the bush.
“What do you think about bringing a present home to your dad?”
David pants happily up at him.
Alex and David are only about halfway down the hallway when Henry’s door opens, and he pops his head out.
“There you are,” Henry says as David pulls at the leash. Alex lets it go, and David darts off toward Henry.
“Were you pacing by the door, waiting for us to come back?” Alex asks. “That’s so sad. Find a hobby or something.”
“That took longer than usual, I was concerned.”
“We took a little detour,” Alex says as he holds up the bag from the pharmacy.
“You took my dog on an errand? I didn’t know he was allowed in a pharmacy.”
“Technically, he’s not,” Alex says, “but it’s late and cold, and the girl at the register thought David was cute. Did you know he’s a total ladies' man?”
“It’s nice that one of us is,” Henry mumbles. “Thank you for walking him even though it almost gave me a panic attack.”
“We stopped at the pharmacy for you,” Alex says as he shakes the bag. “You could try to be a little grateful.”
“I didn’t ask you to get me anything,” Henry says.
He brings David inside but leaves the door open, so Alex takes it as an invitation.
“The best gifts are surprises,” Alex says as he shuts the door behind him and looks around Henry’s apartment.
It’s…something. Crumpled tissues and half-drunk cups of tea strewn around the room.
“Love what you’ve done with the place,” Alex says as he steps over a pile of dog toys.
“Excuse the mess,” Henry says dryly as he takes the last boot off David’s paw. “It's a bit hard to keep up with chores when I’m suffering from—what is it you said I have?”
“The plague,” Alex answers. “Although it could be a number of other diseases, too.”
“A head cold,” Henry tells him. “It’s a head cold. Thank you so much for helping me with David, but if you wouldn’t mind—.” He gestures back toward the door. “I’d like to get some rest.”
“About that,” Alex says as he shakes the bag.
Henry sighs but takes it, opening it with a frown.
“That stuff is guaranteed to knock you out,” Alex says as Henry pulls out a bottle of Robitussin and pulls a face. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re one of those super crunchy people who think they’re above modern medicine and that polio can be cured with essential oils.”
“I’m not.”
“Good, then take a tablespoon, get some sleep, I’ll get some studying done. It’s a win-win.” He backs toward the door so Henry can’t give the bottle back. “Nice to meet you, officially. Maybe we’ll never see each other again. Good night.”
“Alex,” Henry calls, “wait—.”
“Ugh,” Alex groans. “Just take the medicine, please.”
“It’s not about that. David will need another walk in the morning, and if my normal walker still isn’t feeling well and I’m not feeling well—.”
“What time?”
“Six thirty,” Henry says with a wince, and Alex nods.
“I’m usually up at six. I like to get a run-in before I start my day.”
Henry looks down. “David doesn’t really run.”
“Studies say that walking is just as beneficial as running. I’ll be here.”
“Thank you,” Henry says. “I really do appreciate it.”
Alex waves him off. “Don’t worry about it. Hope you feel better.”
“You mean that you hope that I’m quieter.”
“Take the medicine!” Alex shouts on his way out.
Henry laughs, then starts to cough, and Alex shakes his head.
It’s only much later, after he’s showered, heated up some leftovers, and is in the middle of taking a practice test, that he realizes he hasn’t heard a peep from next door.
-
Henry looks better in the morning.
Not great, but less like death warmed over and more like a person who is a breath away from death.
It’s an improvement, especially when Henry smiles and welcomes him in, David dancing at their feet.
“You look less dead this morning,” Alex tells him, and Henry laughs and shoves a hand through his hair. Alex absolutely does not watch the way the strands fall across his forehead. “Medicine work?”
“It’s the best I’ve slept in a while,” Henry admits as he pulls a tissue from the box, frowning when it’s the last one. “Did I bother you at all?”
Alex shakes his head. “Not at all. Kinda missed it, actually. You hacking up a lung over here made me feel less alone.”
“Now, you want me to be sick?”
“I want to walk your dog,” Alex says as he takes the leash. “We’ll be back.”
“Have a good time, love,” Henry says.
“Will do, sweetheart.”
“I was talking to David.”
“For now,” Alex says with a wink, laughing as color floods Henry’s pale cheeks.
They head south today, down streets just beginning to come alive with early morning commuters.
They stop at a coffee shop that Alex knows is pet-friendly. There, he gets himself a latte with a double shot of espresso and David a small cup of whipped cream topped with a dog biscuit.
It’s nice to take his time this early in the morning. Usually, he runs as hard as he can, taking the crosswalk signs as a suggestion, until his mouth tastes like metal and his legs shake. It’s a reset. This is, too, just at a more palatable pace.
They walk down to the Williamsburg Bridge and take a break along the waterfront, looking across the river at Brooklyn, at his future.
That’s the plan—the dream. A law degree and a brownstone and someone to come home to. To come home for.
Someday. Maybe.
Suddenly, David pulls at the leash, pulling Alex from his thoughts.
“All right, let’s get you home before your dad calls the cops. Just gotta make a pit stop first.”
Henry doesn’t open the door right away.
Alex knocks, then waits, and doesn’t hear any movement from inside.
“Oh fuck,” Alex mumbles as he presses his ear to the door. “Henry!” He calls as he knocks a little harder. “We’re back!”
Still nothing, and Alex heaves a sigh.
“Fuck,” he mumbles. “Fuck.”
He’s just about to throw his weight against the door when he finally hears footsteps and—
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he hears Henry say while David jumps up on the door. “I’m sorry,” Henry continues as the door opens, and Alex takes a sharp breath.
Henry’s in a pair of sweats, sitting low on his hips, and nothing else. There’s a towel looped around his shoulders and his hair is sticking up at all angles, his skin pink.
“I’m sorry,” Henry repeats, “I was in the shower.”
“Yeah, that’s,” Alex stutters as he follows Henry and David inside. “That’s—I can see that.”
“It’s the first time in days I’ve felt well enough to linger instead of just getting in and getting out. If you don’t have hot water, I’m afraid I’m to blame.”
Alex wheezes out a laugh, too distracted by the long lines of muscle in Henry’s back as he leans down to take David’s jacket off.
“I uh…I thought you had finally succumbed to your illness,” Alex says. “I was getting nervous.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” Henry says as he stands and turns. “Did you have a good walk?”
Alex is slow to drag his eyes away from the sweet dip of Henry’s waist. “It was nice.”
“Run another errand with another pretty store clerk?” Henry says with a nod toward the bag in Alex’s hand.
“I got a breakfast sandwich at the bodega around the corner, and the clerk is Carlos, who says that I remind him of his grandson, so I’m pretty sure I could commit murder in front of him, and he’d be okay with it. A well-behaved dog is nothing. I got you something, too.”
“More medicine?” Henry asks.
“More like medicine adjacent,” Alex says as Henry opens the bag and pulls the tissues out. “I saw you were out.”
Henry smiles. “And the orange juice?”
“Vitamin C. I hear it’s good for croup.”
Henry rolls his eyes. “Wait here, I have something for you.”
“Oh,” Alex says as Henry starts down the hall. “Okay.”
“Do you mind taking David’s boots off for me?”
Alex kneels down and slides the first boot off David’s paw. “So, uh, where do you think you picked up cholera?”
Henry makes an unamused noise. “Most likely work. The kids are always bringing in something.”
Alex looks up so quickly he nearly topples over. “Are you a teacher?”
“No, I work at the Tompkins Square Library, in the children’s section mostly. It’s been a very popular spot between the weather and the holidays. I’ve been spending most of my time tidying it up.”
“Huh,” Alex says weakly as the last boot slides off, and he gets to his feet.
“I suppose I should do a better job of sanitizing,” Henry says as he steps back into the living room, a hoodie on and his hair slicked back. “Are you all right?”
Alex shakes himself, trying to get rid of the feeling that his entire world just flipped upside down.
“I’m fine. That’s just not what I expected.”
“What did you think I did?”
“I don’t know. A business thing. Maybe a tech startup. Something that kept you in five thousand dollar suits.”
“More like chinos and sweaters.”
“With elbow patches?”
“Sometimes,” Henry says as he pulls a twenty out of his wallet. “Here.”
“What the hell is that?”
“Money, for walking David. And for the orange juice, tissues, and cough syrup. Is it not enough?” He looks back to his wallet and pulls out another bill. “I have more.”
“No, no,” Alex says. “I don’t want your money.”
“But you’ve done so much for me.”
“Yeah, out of the goodness of my heart. Keep your money. I’m gonna be a lawyer soon, I’ll have enough for both of us.”
“Really?” Henry asks as he slides the money back into his wallet.
“Probably not, no. Honestly I’ll probably stay with the non-profit that I’m working for now. It’ll just be more official.”
“The non-profit that you’re going to be late to?”
Alex looks down at his watch and swears. “Fuck. I’ll be back tonight if you think you’ll need me.”
“I'll need you,” Henry says, and Alex almost trips over his feet. “For David. David will need you. For his walk. That’s what I meant.”
“Then I’ll be here,” Alex says. “For David.”
The day drags, even though there’s plenty to do.
He does his work but keeps an eye on the clock, working through his lunch so he can duck out early, then lies through his teeth when his boss asks him if he can stay late, and he agrees.
He misses the train to Manhattan by twenty seconds and decides to run to the next station instead of waiting for the next one to arrive.
He makes it on that train just as the doors are closing, sweaty and with a bloody palm from where he slipped on an icy patch on the stairs and just barely managed to catch himself.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Alex says when Henry opens the door. “There was a thing at work—I was the only one who speaks Spanish, and they needed me to interpret, and the woman didn’t get off work until six, so I had to stay.”
“Are you bleeding?” Henry asks, and Alex shakes his head.
“No, it stopped around the High Street station.”
Henry opens the door wider and waves him in. “Let me clean that up.”
“I’m fine, really. David needs his walk.”
“He can wait.”
“But what about his routine?”
Henry turns and gives him a stern look. Alex hates to admit that it works for him.
Henry herds him into the bathroom and sits him down on the closed toilet seat while he rummages through the vanity.
He’s still wearing the same sweater and sweatpants Alex saw him in that morning, but he looks completely different. There’s color in his cheeks, and his eyes are bright and focused when he looks over at Alex.
“You look good,” Alex says, and Henry pauses, a bandage in his hand. “I mean, you look well,” Alex backtracks. “Healthy. Healthier than I’ve seen you.”
“I feel healthy,” Henry says as he picks up Alex’s hand and dabs it clean. “I think I’m coming round the other side of it now.”
“That’s good,” Alex says.
Henry smiles softly and lays the bandage across his hand. “You said you worked for a non-profit?”
“Yeah, it’s good experience, but I can’t really tell my boss to fuck off when they ask me to stay late or work a weekend because the only one that’s hurting is the young woman that’s working overtime to cover her rent while also working on getting her parents' immigration status cleared up. A process that is intentionally expensive, confusing, and shitty.”
“All three?” Henry asks.
“It bears repeating. I think it’ll be better when I get my license and can help more. Now it just kinda feels like I’m doing grunt work. Like it doesn’t really matter.”
“I’m sure it matters to the young woman that you waited for tonight.”
“I guess,” Alex says, tipping his head back to look up at Henry, who seems so much closer now, his fingers warm around Alex’s wrist.
Henry looks down at him, eyes blue and bright, and dropping down to Alex’s mouth and—
David barks in the next room, and Henry clears his throat and lets Alex go.
“He’s getting impatient,” Henry says.
“I should go,” Alex says as he stands. “I think he has a crush on this doodle at the park. I don’t want to keep her waiting.”
“Very kind of you,” Henry says as he tosses the bandage wrapper in the trash while Alex lingers in the doorway.
“Hey,” he asks. “Did you have dinner yet?”
Henry shakes his head, and Alex smiles.
“Good. Don’t.”
Later, when Henry opens the door, Alex holds up a plastic bag like a bro holding up a dead fish in his Tinder profile pic.
"I brought soup," Alex announces. “It’s chicken noodle from this place a few blocks over, but it’s heavy on the lemon and garlic. This is the missing piece to kick out whatever lingering medieval virus you have in your body.”
“Thank you,” Henry says as he takes the bag. “I hope you’re staying to have some.”
“Well,” Alex says, thinking about his skipped lunch. “I did get two quarts so you’d have plenty of leftovers.”
“Then you’re staying.” He waves Alex toward the kitchen and nods to the table. “Sit. Please.”
“Since you asked so politely,” Alex says as he sits down and takes off David’s jacket and boots.
Henry smiles and grabs two bowls from the cabinet by the sink. “This was very nice of you, by the way. I haven’t had anyone do this for me in a while.”
“Bring you food? You know there’s apps for that.”
“No, I mean take care of me like this.” He sets the bowls on the table. “My family isn’t exactly the warm and nurturing type.”
“I’m sorry,” Alex says, and Henry shakes his head.
“Perhaps I’m being a bit unfair, at least regarding my mother. Things changed after my father passed.”
“I’m sorry,” Alex says again—it doesn’t seem like enough—and Henry waves him off.
“I didn’t say that to make you feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t feel sorry for you,” Alex says. “I’m just sorry.”
Henry hums as he ladles the soup into the bowls.
“So I guess London at Christmas wasn’t all that great for you.”
“Anytime in London isn’t great for me. Christmas might be the worst.”
“Then why’d you go back?”
“My sister, mostly. She has her own…challenges to navigate,” he says tightly, “and she’s all I really have left anymore. I’m desperate to get her over here with me. But I also keep hoping that maybe this year will be the year that my brother finally stands up to our gran when she says something terrible or that my mother will find her way out of her grief and find her way back to us.” Henry sits down and smiles tightly. “But it’s always the same old. I guess at some point, I should just give it up. It’s getting a bit pathetic now.”
“I don’t think it’s ever pathetic to have hope,” Alex tells him. “But I also don’t think that you should fly across an ocean just to have a shitty time.”
“When I could have a shitty time here?”
“Oh c’mon, these last few days haven't been so bad.”
“Do you mean the time in between you accusing me of suffering from some long-eradicated disease?”
“Hey, it’s 2025, eradicated diseases are on their way back.”
Henry groans then hums around the first spoonful of soup. “I really don’t know how to thank you for all you’ve done for me, especially after the way I acted toward you in the lobby. I didn't deserve your kindness.”
“Everyone deserves a second chance,” Alex says. “And if I’m being honest, these past few days have been good for me, too. It made me realize there are more important things than falling asleep in front of my laptop while I study. I have you and your mountain fever to thank for that.”
Henry smiles. “Glad to be of service.”
Alex stays to clean up, even though Henry swears he doesn’t need to.
He packs up the rest of the soup, sets it in Henry’s alarmingly empty fridge, and then washes the dishes, passing them off to Henry to dry, who does his best to hide his jaw-cracking yawns on the bend of his elbow.
“I should go,” Alex says as he shuts off the water. “I think you need to rest.”
“I told you that I’m feeling better.”
“Feeling better isn’t actually being better.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Because you’re still sick. Your brain is foggy. Do you even know where you are or who I am?”
“I know with utter clarity that you’re insufferable.”
“And I know that you still have a fever,” Alex says as he lays the back of his hand across Henry’s forehead.
“That’s a terrible way of checking for a fever.”
Alex hums and flips his hand, and slides it down Henry’s face so he’s cupping Henry’s cheek.
Henry leans closer and turns his face into Alex’s hand to kiss the center of his palm.
“Henry,” Alex exhales as Henry sets his hand on his hip and leans in to press a barely there kiss to Alex’s mouth.
“Stay,” he says again.
“Henry,” Alex warns.
“Not for that,” Henry answers softly, “not right now—the moment my temperature drops, yes, definitely, but for now, I could make tea. We could watch a movie.”
“You really think you can keep your hands off of me?”
Henry rolls his eyes but kisses him again before pulling back. “I’ll do my best.”
Alex wakes up with a crick in his neck and a tickle in his throat. He’s warm, almost uncomfortably so, and when he opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is David sitting in front of him.
Slowly, the night comes back to him—Henry making tea while they bickered over what movie to watch. Pulling the blanket off the back of the couch as Henry slumped further against his side, drifting off before the movie ended.
“Love,” Henry calls, and Alex pushes himself up on one elbow, his head swimming, aching at his temples. “Do you want breakfast?”
“I—,” Alex breaks off into a hacking cough, his eyes watering. When they clear, Henry has taken David’s place, crouching in front of him.
With a frown he pushes Alex’s hair off his forehead before pressing a kiss there.
“You’re burning up,” he says, and Alex huffs.
“That’s a terrible way of checking—.”
He’s interrupted by another full-body cough, and Henry pushes himself to his feet.
He guides Alex back against the pillow and pulls the blanket up over his shoulders.
“I’ll get you a fresh cup of tea,” Henry tells him. “And the cough syrup.”