Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Alex learns who Henry Fox is through their shared apartment. 

Like, there is always a bulk-sized box of Earl Grey tea in the corner of the kitchen counter top, next to their shared electric kettle. Always. He has never seen it get less than 3 individual tea bags remaining before a new box appears the next day, the three leftover bags already emptied and dispelled in the trash can. 

Or, Henry had never fully explained what exactly about English Literature he was concentrating his PhD on when they first met each other upon moving into their place 6 months ago. Never indicated what intricate thesis he wrote for his Masters and is now working on his laptop when he takes up a spot on their couch. He also never seems to read any of his books outside of his own room, even though Alex has most definitely caught glimpses of two huge and completely filled bookshelves pushed against Henry’s bedroom walls as he passes by on his way to his own room. 

Except. 

There is one book that Alex finds in random spots around their shared space; a battered copy of Pride & Prejudice. Frayed on the edges, with a bookmark that is always marking a different chapter every time Alex finds it on the next surface it sits on. He even once found it lying on the toilet seat cover when it was his turn to shower after Henry.

Or. 

This one is a bit rarer but it happens to be Alex’s favorite new fact about Henry. Alex’s mornings almost always start around 6-7AM, already having a stacked itinerary for the day, not accounting for the random spurts of coffee refills and intense moments of tunnel vision between him and his email app. 

As he passes the living room to start making his first cup of coffee for the day (which is then followed by his second to-go serving in a thermos for his upcoming classes), he will sometimes find the TV still on from the night before with a blanket bundled up on the couch cushions. 

He knows it was Henry, obviously; he’s woken up a few times in his first few weeks living there to hear Henry’s feet padding against the hardwood floors at ungodly hours. He’s learned that Henry is a bit of an insomniac, and will leave his room to be comforted by the low volume of the TV in their living room. He’s never there by the time Alex wakes up, most likely dozing off for a bit before finally deciding to retreat back to his room to finish getting a few more hours of sleep in his own bed. 

But sometimes. 

Sometimes, he forgets to turn the TV off when he leaves. And every time he does this, Alex always finds The Great British Bake Off as the culprit. 

There are other observations Alex makes, like how Henry never seems to cook for himself. At first, he thought he just never cooked when Alex was home, maybe not wanting to guiltily make dinner and not offer his roommate any. They never really got past their first introductions and their shared-space-boundaries discussions, so it would be quite awkward if they suddenly started sharing meals together.

This thought is quickly erased and replaced by the truth, though, when Alex comes home one evening and just slightly smells remnants of burnt food wafting from the kitchen. As he goes to investigate, he sees Henry exit out of said kitchen with a trash bag in his hand and a startled, absolutely beet red face. Henry nods as a greeting to Alex and quickly rushes out of the apartment, presumably going to throw away the bag in the dumpster behind their building. Alex manages to keep a straight face until Henry shuts the door behind him, before letting out an amused laugh and opens his phone to order dinner, accidentally ordering double of his food so he offers the extra to Henry.   

But what he has especially taken note of the last few months he’s spent in this apartment is the lack of human beings that exist in their shared space. 

He has never seen Henry invite a friend over. Has never heard another clear voice inside their unit except his roommate's. He has heard an occasional female voice coming from Henry’s bedroom. But the distortion in her tone makes it obvious that Henry is talking to someone on speaker phone. Someone called Bea who also sometimes brings an energetic barking dog named David (now that he is aching to ask Henry about) into the conversation. He’s heard them both refer to Pip and Grandma collectively, so he imagines this is Henry’s sister. And considering Henry has a thick English accent that surprised Alex upon introducing himself, he also imagines she is not on the same side of the pond as they are. 

So, Henry has not brought anyone over. 

It’s not like Alex can judge though. 

Nora and June haven’t been able to visit him since his first year in school. 

Which, yeah, he understands; Nora is in an intensive analytics program for NPR in Los Angeles and his sister is 8 months into a journalistic deep-dive of an underground jazz activism club in Louisiana. They still chat with him in their groupchat every day, and they have a weekly catch-up on Skype so none of them get too sucked up into their work. 

But god, between 2L classes, studying in the library, and working out to let out his academic frustrations, he hasn’t had a single in-person conversation in weeks that surpasses asking the barista how her day has been.

He’s going crazy over it. 

So excuse him if he passes by Henry one night, both in pajamas and on their way to their respective rooms, both about to end their day at the same time, and his pinky slightly grazes against Henry’s right hip, immediately making him stop, whip around and stutter out, “H-Hey.” 

It startles Henry—it startles Alex as well, Jesus—as he stumbles with his steps and turns around, eyebrows raised in surprise at the sudden break in peaceful silence in their apartment. 

“Hey?” he replies. 

Alex feels a flush of embarrassment run through him, not really knowing what to say next, cursing his mouth for running faster than his brain. “Um, hey. Uh—how was your day?” 

Confusion still permeates on Henry’s face but his eyebrows relax a tad bit. 

Alex watches him reach a hand over to the other and begin fiddling with the ring on his pinky (he’s curious about that too). “Oh, it was, yeah it was okay…I was able to finish grading my students’ papers today, finally, so—yeah, p-productive day I would say.” 

There’s a tinge of pink creeping onto Henry’s cheeks as he speaks, his eyes desperately looking at every corner of his vision besides the man in front of him. Alex nods along and smiles awkwardly at him—pointlessly, since Henry refuses to make eye contact. 

Okay. 

Alex can tell when someone is entertaining him just to be polite. He’s handled this before. He’s pretended he has more pressing matters so the other person doesn’t feel guilty for cutting the conversation short with a poor excuse about needing to run off. 

He clears his throat and nods once more, starting to retract his steps and walk back towards his room. Except this time, Henry stops him in his tracks as he reaches a hand out and takes a breath, his eyes now on him with a curious look.

“H-how was your day? Have any…cases you’ve cracked?” 

A snort leaves Alex’s lips unintentionally, and Henry’s slightly flushed cheeks immediately become redder. 

“Sorry,” Henry starts again, smiling sheepishly and looking down quickly before locking eyes with Alex again. “I have no idea what you do in law school. That’s a bit away from my territory.”

Alex shakes his head and shifts his weight onto his other foot, leaning a shoulder onto the hallway wall and crossing his arms. 

“That’s my bad,” he replies, “I haven’t exactly been educating you on legal jargon.” Henry breathes out a chuckle and his smile becomes more genuine. “Today was good,” he continues. “Finished my first draft on my next case analysis, didn’t choke when my professor cold called me.” Henry hums in amusement. “Just like any other good day…well, minus the loneliness that comes with it.”

He lets out that last sentence without really thinking about it. 

The bitterness in it sits uncomfortably on his tongue. He tries to quirk his mouth into a smile to dismiss it but the ends of his lips can’t seem to raise up from the frown it’s formed. 

At that, Henry’s expression softens. Confusion returns onto his features but this time, his eyebrows are turned down somberly. 

“Is—are you alright?” He takes one step forward and hesitates for a second before taking another. “Is there something wrong?”

Alex tries to swallow the shame in that question, a million affirmations running through his head to quiet the small voice telling him to stop being ungrateful about his life, to tell Henry that nothing is wrong and apologize for keeping him from his sleep. 

But, God, Alex is lonely.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m alright. I’m—” he shrugs and gulps down the tremble that threatens to peak out onto his next words, “I just. I haven’t really…gone this long without talking to someone else? I mean, like in-person. I have a sister, and a best friend too. And we talk all the time on the phone. But…there’s only so much a filtered voice through a tiny screen can do to compensate for my need to see a person right in front of me, and talk to them, and like actually be able to touch them. ” 

Henry’s right hand spasms at the last two words. Alex tries to correct himself. 

“I mean, not like, touch them touch them. I mean, okay, yeah it has been a while since I’ve done that too—” Henry unsuccessfully tries to cover up a cough, his cheeks steadily getting redder. “No, okay. That’s not what I care about. I just—I just need to like—” 

Alex groans at his word vomiting and thinks, fuck it. He removes his shoulder from the wall and strides the few feet between him and Henry, raising his arms and quickly pulling his roommate into a firm hug. The previous small voice in his head has become quite loud, telling him to abortabortabort and stopbeingsofuckingweird but the warmth of Henry’s body flush against his and the stuttering heartbeat he can feel against his own is enough to shut that voice up. 

His eyes are squeezed shut, his palms sweaty but splayed against Henry’s back. He gives himself a few seconds before confronting the fact that Henry isn’t hugging back, allowing himself to just bask in the touch of a human being for a moment before pulling himself back. 

He goes to retreat, an apology already forming on his lips and a game plan to avoid Henry for the next month already brewing in his mind. 

Henry’s arms moving to engulf him back is what stops him. 

His heart stutters a few more times before completely calming in the comfort of not entirely ruining the quiet cohabitation he’s established with the blonde man. 

A sigh leaves Alex’s mouth and he courageously tilts his head down, letting his chin and mouth delicately touch Henry’s clothed shoulder. 

Their embrace lasts a few minutes, neither of them daring to move or to initiate anything more than Henry’s hand slightly rubbing Alex’s back and Alex slightly gripping Henry’s sweater into his palm. 

Alex is the first to pull away, slowly stepping back with his head still tilted down with a small burst of embarrassment rising back into him before he swallows that down and looks up at Henry. He’s met with kind eyes. 

“Sorry, I—” Alex starts but is stopped by a firm look from Henry, silently telling him to stop apologizing. Alex nods and redirects, “Thank you, Henry. That was—that was nice.”

Henry smiles softly and responds, “Of course, Alex. I understand.” He brings his hand back to his other, resuming his ring fidgeting. Alex thinks it probably comforts Henry in the way the cool metal of his own bracelets comfort him. “Like I said, I’m not well versed in the inner mechanisms of law school. But, if I may, it does seem like it’s been wringing you out dry lately.” Alex quirks an eyebrow at that. Henry continues, “In the sense that, I’ve noticed you haven’t really been home as much these past few weeks. I can only assume you’re spending most of your time studying, correct?” 

Alex nods. “Yeah. It seems like my new residence is split between the library and the gym.”

Henry hums and lets his eyes not-so-subtly flick down to Alex’s torso. Alex’s stomach turns a little. 

“Well,” Henry replies, shifting feet. “I hope you know that even though our conversations have been quite sparse since you moved in, I do appreciate you as a roommate. And, if you ever need to vent again. Or—or indulge in my physical presence,” Henry’s cheeks haven’t stopped blushing and Alex hasn’t stopped drinking the sight in, “then by all means, you know where I reside.” 

Alex nods at Henry and Henry nods back. There’s a few seconds of just looking at each other before Alex clears his throat and nods again. “Alright. Goodnight, Henry.” He’s given a quiet goodnight before they both retreat into their rooms. 

Alex left his phone charging on his bedside table. He unlocks it to double check his alarm for 6am is on and quickly sorts through his email for any last minute messages from his professors for tomorrow’s grueling schedule. A message from Nora pops up top,

i swear alejandro you better not text me before 9am tomorrow i need my 4 hours of sleep.

He smiles and responds a quick love you 2 nora goodnight before settling into his sheets and closing his eyes.

If his body feels infinitely less tense compared to that morning, if his mind immediately starts shutting off as he presses his head into his pillow, if his dreams aren’t plagued by the usual missed deadlines and failed exams, he couldn’t give you a reason. 

No reason at all.

Chapter Text

The day after the Hallway Incident (as Alex has now deemed to call it) was a bit more awkward than usual when Alex arrived home. 

Every other day, if Alex comes through the door and Henry is not in his own room, they’ll greet each other and exchange lopsided smiles. That’s all they give themselves, since Alex is already on his way to shower and start dinner before finishing up the day’s assignments. Once in a while, they’ll find themselves both in the kitchen, Henry on his way out with his newly brewed tea, Alex on his way in to start on whatever meal his homesick heart is craving that night. But even then, a simple oh hey and sorryexcuseme are the only phrases to be uttered within their shared space. 

This time, with the memory of Henry’s body embracing his from the night before, when Alex hears Henry shuffling across kitchen tiles, he tucks away his bag and shoes against the foyer table and heads straight to the kitchen. A ham sandwich sits on a plate on the counter, Henry’s figure halfway in the fridge as he puts away his ingredients. He doesn’t seem to notice Alex’s presence, a quiet tune being hummed absentmindedly. 

“Hey,” Alex quips. 

Henry yelps. An elbow is knocked into the fridge door as he straightens up and whips around, a hand immediately going to grasp at his chest.

“Christ Almighty, Alex.” 

Alex curses at himself. 

“Sorry! I wasn’t trying to scare you—I came in and heard you, and so, I-I just thought—Um, hi.” 

“Hi,” Henry breathes out. “Please don’t ever do that again.” 

Heat flames up Alex’s cheeks in embarrassment and he immediately begins to backtrack out of the room. “Sorry, sorry…I’ll just…sorry.” 

“No, Alex,” Henry starts. He shakes his head and laughs softly to himself. “Please, I just meant to never startle me like that again.” He smiles at Alex. “You are allowed to greet me.” 

“Right, of course,” Alex nods, clearing his throat and flicking his eyes around to search for a way to bring attention away from himself. “Enjoying a late lunch?”

Henry replies, “Yes, well. Late lunch, early dinner, whatever you can call remembering to feed yourself after spending the last 5 hours searching for a primary source for your thesis that could very well make or break your entire PhD program.”  

Raising his eyebrows, Alex lets out a low whistle and crosses his arms. “Yeah, yeah. That’ll do it. I think I once went an entire day without consuming anything except 4 cups of coffee. My sister practically had to waterboard me to rehydrate my body after I slept for more than 15 hours following that.”

A hum. 

“You have a sister?”

“Mhm. June. She’s older, like yours.” Henry stutters his breath and murmurs a quiet oh with slightly widened eyes. Alex blurts out quickly, “Are you done with researching for the day?”

Henry nods slowly, his eyes seeming to pierce through Alex’s soul like he’s trying to find out the secrets of the universe.

“Yeah…yeah, erm—I was just going to head back into the living room and binge watch something until my brain settles down from the frenzy of today’s productivity.” 

Makes sense, Alex thinks. He doesn’t trust himself to utter another word out. 

There’s a pause. A few shuffling of feet as both fail to think of what to say next. God, Alex has never been this bad at making conversation before. He’s always had the opposite problem, actually. Never knowing when to read the room when someone wants him to shut the fuck up and leave them alone. 

“Okay, well I’ll just. Head over to my room then. Enjoy.” 

Henry licks his lips and parts them for a few moments, before speaking next.

“Would you…care to join me?” 

It should be humiliating, the way Henry stares at Alex with a cautious but endeared expression. Like he’s afraid his invitation will short circuit Alex’s brain and make him physically explode at the thought of continuing their interaction. It shouldn’t make his heart pulse and his head feel a little faint, having the blonde’s eyes flutter towards him like he’s fond of Alex’s anxious quirks. 

But whatever.

Alex doesn’t let those thoughts linger any more than they should and promptly accepts Henry’s invite, asking him to spare 15 minutes so he can shower and change. When he heads back to the living room, Henry’s sandwich sits next to a duplicate on the coffee table. Henry catches his eye and smiles sheepishly. 

“I know you usually make dinner instead of ordering and I saw your leftovers were finished yesterday, so.” He shrugs and motions to the extra plate. “Help yourself, please.” 

Alex smiles. Huh. 

He settles next to Henry on the couch, leaving a good few inches between them to give Henry space. Alex kind of hates it. His go-to couch position with Nora is being sprawled out on top of her, not letting her breathe as he rests his entire body weight on her until she groans and pushes him off enough to just leave his head on her stomach, his torso resting on top of her legs. There’s no way he’d try that with Henry. 

He reaches for the sandwich and nods towards the TV. 

“What were you planning on watching?”

“I didn’t really have anything in mind. Anything that doesn’t make me think about dead poets any more than I have to today.” 

Alex laughs. “Fair enough. How about a show? I’ve been meaning to start The Bear.” 

Henry lights up at that. “Oh! Yeah, that’s been on my list for a while too. Let’s start it.” 

As Henry begins to click buttons on the remote to navigate the streaming services, Alex uses the silence to pluck up the courage to ask, “So, is that—are you doing your PhD on poets?” Henry nods absentmindedly. “Dead ones specifically?” 

This earns him a soft laugh. Henry’s eyes crinkle on the edges (Alex just happens to notice, alright) and he nods again.

“Unfortunately, yes. Dead ones seem to get me going,” he jokes. “Lord Byron, to be exact. Although, after today, I’m reconsidering scrapping it all and just writing about Dr. Seuss, since it’s so hard to find a bloody primary source on the lad.” 

Alex sinks into the couch and takes a bite out of his sandwich. “Oh please enlighten me Fox.” 

Henry turns his head to look at Alex fully. The smile on his face seems permanent now. Pride fills inside Alex. 

“Alright, well…”

The TV is left abandoned for the next thirty minutes as Henry fills him in on the gist of his studies, which then leads to him explaining why he spends most of his days either holed up in his room or stationed on the couch with his laptop. 

At some point, Alex turns his body completely towards Henry, pulling in his legs to press his heels on the couch with his arms wrapped around his knees. Some point after that, Henry does the same. 

If Alex is completely honest, most of what Henry says flies right over his head. He’s never been great with English or history, and has never even considered combining the two. And still, he’s completely enraptured by the animated hands Henry uses to emphasize frustrations or insane discoveries he’s made in his journey. When Henry takes a pause to catch his breath between chapters of his thesis and a blush slowly starts to creep onto his cheek as he realizes he’s raised his voice considerably so, Alex doesn’t waste time to ask a follow-up question so Henry has no choice but to erase any insecurity and delve back into his next analysis. 

They do get through the first three episodes of the show, eventually. After the first episode, Alex makes a quick trip to serve himself his last coffee of the day—Henry does the same for his tea after the second. 

When the credits roll for the third time and Alex unsuccessfully hides a yawn into the back of his palm, Henry pauses the show and smiles warmly at him.

“I think it’s your bedtime.” 

Alex rolls his eyes but nods. 

“Yeah, yeah. Alright. Goodnight, Henry. Thanks for the sandwich.”

“Goodnight, Alex. Thanks for the company.” There’s a twinkle in Henry’s eyes when he thanks Alex, like he’s saying thank you for entertaining my life’s work. Alex’s heart jumps a little.

He heads off into the hallway, beginning his nightly routine of skin care and mentally preparing for tomorrow’s schedule. Or at least, he tries to. 

The truth of the matter is, Alex is afraid of what comes next. More specifically, Alex is afraid that he is becoming too attached to something that might not even be his. Tonight was perfect, and he wants more. More shared dinners, more ranting about dead poets, more late night watching until his eyes get droopy and he slips off to sleep in his room (more Henry in his soft hoodies with his soft hair and his soft smile). But how do you tell your roommate who you have suddenly taken an interest in talking to after six months of minimal communication that hey, you might actually go crazy if you go back to a life without him beside you on that couch? How do you, in a super cool, not insanely suffocating way, tell your roommate that his presence in your home is quickly becoming what’s keeping you from slipping into the worst version of yourself? 

He can’t. 

So he doesn’t. 

And yet. 

When Alex arrives home the next day, Henry is in the living room. Henry and two plates of Chinese takeout. Henry and a shy smile on his face as he greets Alex and asks him if he wants to pick up where they left off. 

As Alex smiles back and asks for a few minutes for him to go change, he makes a note to himself to maybe set up an appointment with his general practitioner soon. Maybe he can bring up why his heart can’t stop racing these past few days. 

—

Alex has this thing where he goes on autopilot when things go to shit. 

It’s a coping mechanism he’s learned to adopt, starting from the early pre-divorce days during middle school when his parents’ raised voices would echo against the walls of their home. He learned to tune them out—tune the world out, really—and focus on getting through his class assignments, eat his breakfast and dinner at the dinner table as fast as he can, and leave as soon as Nora and her parents arrive to pick him up for school. 

Does it make him emotionally stunted and hard to communicate with when he gets into this state? Yes. Has he decided to learn a new, healthy way to deal with his problems now that he’s a 24 year old adult that is well on his way to become a future lawyer? No. 

Today is another one of those days where he decides to retreat into his mental cocoon. His paper didn’t get the grade he thought it deserved, and when he had the guts to go to office hours and ask for feedback, he was given nothing but a this just wasn’t your best work Mr. Claremont-Diaz, I expected more from you. 

This wasn’t even the beginning of his bad, shitty day, though. It actually began as he was heading out of the apartment that day. 

He didn’t manage to close his thermos all the way, and accidentally dropped it on the pavement floor as he was trying to reach for the keys in his bag to lock the front door. The coffee splattered on his pants and his thermos rolled off the pavement and into the bush next to the pathway, essentially lathering itself with coffee-infused mud. 

Fuck me, he thinks, groaning as he quickly picks it up, sprinting back into the building and haphazardly throwing the thermos into the sink, making a grating clattering noise against the metal material. Sorry Henry is the only thought he lets slip out as he books it out the front door. 

Sure, maybe Alex is to blame for enabling his codependency on coffee to affect his mood. But he’s not thinking about that right now. He’s thinking about having to set aside time and money today to go to the cafe and buy himself another cup, and thinking about the absolutely grueling Contract Analysis discussion he has to start his day with, now without the comfort of a warm drink in his hand. 

A few more inconveniences occur throughout the day—he’s talked over by this WASPy snob named Hunter who can’t take a fucking hint from the TA he’s shamelessly flirting with, his usual cafe spot ran out of his favorite dark roast, he steps on fucking gum —and they all lead to a blank expression on Alex’s face accompanied solely by a tensed jaw as he unlocks the front door to his apartment in the evening. 

All he currently sees is the hallway past the living room, which eventually leads to a closed door, which opens up to his bedroom, in which a bed waits for Alex to deeply bury his body in. He toes off his shoes, not blinking as he stumbles and regains his balance. He kicks them to the side, not bothering to bend down and neatly place them against the side table like he always does. Future Alex will be mad, always needing his environment to reflect the responsibility he believes he holds in maintaining a strict and disciplined mindset to endure these excruciating years of academia. 

Future Alex can go fuck himself. 

His bag slips off his shoulder. The thud it makes intensifies the next pulse in his headache-ridden brain.  

Alex just wants to sleep. 

He takes one step.

“Alex?”

He stops. 

Through the haziness in his eyes and the buzzing in his ears, he is able to recognize the voice coming from his left. He turns his head so, and blinks his eyes clear to see Henry.

Well, the top half of him—the rest is hidden behind the couch he’s currently sitting on. He has a black hoodie on and his hair looks ruffled, the usual bags under his eyes slightly puffed like he has been sleeping for a few hours before. The TV is paused, and Alex can see a suited man sitting in front of the camera, documentary-style. Henry’s laptop is on the coffee table along with a spiral notebook and a pen sprawled next to it. Alex wonders if the documentary has to do with his thesis, or if Henry is the type to put on background noise to help him concentrate on—

“Alex,” Henry’s voice interrupts his thoughts again. 

He looks so soft, his facial and bodily features combined. There’s a crinkle in his forehead as he stares up at Alex, waiting for the other to focus his attention back to him again.

It takes a few seconds before Alex’s body moves without being told to. 

His feet feel heavy as they trod over to Henry, his body even more so when he collapses onto the couch next to him. He doesn’t realize his head is tilted back against his couch until he blinks again and he’s staring up at the ceiling. 

Alex has never felt more exhausted in his life. 

Both of his hands raise to his head, pushing the heels of his palms against closed eyes until the tension headache that has not gone away, gives way to a bigger, duller ache concentrated on his eye sockets. Fighting pain with pain is counterproductive, sure. But it breaks the monotonous strain that has been resonating in his skull the entire day, so he presses even harder. 

Harder, until his wrists are suddenly warm and his eyes are opening again and a hitched breath comes from beside him. He manages to tilt his head just so to catch Henry’s eyes on him again, impossibly even more soft than mere moments ago, sprinkled with a new sight of concern. 

Alex’s eyes dart around his roommates face, taking in the thick eyebrows that are pulled in together, the pair of eyes that are slightly squinting back at him with a questioning look, the singular mole sitting on top of pursed lips that break apart to allow Henry to ask, “Bad day?”

All Alex can do is swallow down a knot in his throat and nod. 

Henry hums—Alex can’t quite get enough of that sound, now that he thinks about it—and flexes his fingers against the wrists he is still holding. 

With that slight sensation, Alex’s brain finally starts to catch on. It starts screaming inside him.

God, how pathetic is he? 

It's only been five days since their Hallway Incident and he kind of hasn’t really stopped thinking about the feeling of Henry’s warmth seeping into his bones. 

They’ve established a routine of a meal and a show since that first night, now completely finished with The Bear and on their way to finishing This is Going to Hurt. With each night, Alex gets to learn something new about Henry, like how David is a ten-year old beagle that his sister Bea is taking care of now that he’s in the States. Or how Pip is short for Phillip, who has a five-year old son Henry hasn’t had the chance to meet yet (Alex ignores when a pensive Henry dismisses Alex’s questioning of why). 

He enjoyed those nights. He did. It’s just that. 

Alex can’t go five minutes without his brain reminding him that his body is so close to Henry’s and not touching him. 

There was one night where he attempted his luck and plopped down close enough for their shoulders to graze each other. From the corner of his eyes, he could see exactly when Henry registered the proximity. Could see how he minutely stiffened, a small cough and subsequent gulp moving his Adam’s apple. He didn’t move though, and Alex ignored the slight churning of his stomach the rest of the night as they concentrated on the TV. Ignored how the churning intensified when he headed off to sleep and felt his left shoulder infinitely warmer than the right as the trace of Henry radiated off him. 

That’s all he’s allowed himself to have. Until now, with Henry’s hands heating up his wrists and Henry’s eyes searching for what is troubling Alex and how to fix it. 

Alex doesn’t let himself think as he slips his wrists out of Henry’s grip and wraps his arms around Henry’s torso, quickly leaning forward to bury his head into his chest. 

Henry is frozen. Alex is frozen and close to throwing up. 

fuckfuckfuckfuck.

Until Henry starts to shift around. 

Alex already has an apology ready to flow out of his mouth, eyes closed with the intention of blinding himself to the look Henry will give him as he tells him to get off of him and to give him space.

It never comes though, as Henry instead, wraps his arms around Alex and pulls them backwards until Henry is laying on the couch and Alex is on top of him and—oh, this is. Yeah. This is what he needs. 

His nose wrinkles against the fabric of Henry’s hoodie. He inhales traces of Earl Grey and vanilla. 

“Do you need anything?” Alex shakes his head no. “Do you want me to order some food?” Henry asks again, loosening an arm to reach for his phone left sitting on the coffee table. 

Alex fails to keep a soft whimper from leaving his lips. His roommate stops in his tracks while Alex tries to calm his racing heart. 

He murmurs into Henry's chest, “Can you just…can you hold me?” 

His voice cracks a bit on the last word and he buries his face impossibly further into Henry as he tries to swallow down the shame. 

Henry doesn’t hesitate to bring his arm back around Alex and squeeze firmly. “Of course, Alex,” he replies. “Of course.” 

They stay there for a bit, letting the tick of their clock fill in the silent space between them. Alex can feel his headache start to fade as the minutes go by, his head no longer feeling like it will implode. He’s starting to get a little bit hungry too, now that the pain in his head and his sore bones is dissipating, but he doesn’t want to move. Can’t even fathom getting up to cook an actual meal. Henry hasn’t moved either, except for the occasional hand running up and down his back. 

It's stupid, really, but Alex can’t help but think about his mom. 

How one day in his junior year, when he had another Monumental Shit Day, he bursted into tears when his mom asked him why he was so quiet. Thinks about how she automatically gathered him in her arms and brought them up to her room, laid them both down on her bed and held him as he cried and babbled about Calculus and lacrosse and Nora (they were going through a thing that year). Thinks about how afterwards, when he ran out of tears and his stomach started rumbling from leaving his dinner in the kitchen, his mom slipped out of his arms to head downstairs and reheated his food. How she returned with the plate and a cup of coffee (decaf, she’s not an enabler), stealing a few sips as they watched Hell’s Kitchen on her bed until he finished his food. 

Alex isn’t saying this is the same situation. He’s not saying that Henry is showing him the same compassion and patience and love as his own mother. He’s just saying that it’s been 20 minutes and Henry hasn’t let go of Alex or shown any sign of being exasperated by his behavior. It’s been 20 minutes, the pain and frustrations of today are long gone and the slight hunger he was feeling before has given away to drowsiness. He feels warm and tired and the steady rise and fall of Henry’s chest underneath him is slowly pulling him under. 

Alex doesn’t realize he had fallen asleep until he’s being woken up by his 6AM alarm on his phone, which has somehow found its way in between the cushions on the couch beneath him. 

The couch is beneath him because Henry isn’t. Henry isn’t in the living room at all. There’s a quick second where panic threatens to fill his chest at the disappearance of his roommate. It’s relieved though, as his eyes adjust to the dark room and he takes note of The Great British Bake Off paused on the TV, Henry’s belongings no longer on the table in front of him. It’s after this that he finally notices that a blanket is draped over him, the same one Henry uses during his usual insomniac remedies. 

As he sits up, he takes note of still being in his clothes from the day before, completely rumpled with a pant leg rolled up his calf and his shirt slightly ridden up his stomach. 

He has a lot to do today. Considering his bag was left untouched and thrown to the side, he’s actually behind on today’s schedule already. He’s going to have to skip the gym and possibly reviewing his notes if he wants to go to all his lectures and start working on his Global Perspectives presentation. If he wants to avoid coming home and saying no to Henry and their awaiting show. He should be having an Even More Monumental Shit Day.

And yet.

He goes through his morning routine, allowing himself the time to shower off the day before, willing himself to grab his coconut shampoo instead of Henry’s vanilla bottle right next to it. He makes sure to close his thermos tightly this time, he gets his keys out of his bag before stepping out of the apartment. He gets a free coffee at the cafe once the barista shows him the dark roast restocked that morning. He makes his professor laugh. He comes home and makes spaghetti for two.

Today is a good day. This time, he doesn’t deny himself the truth of who is to blame.

Chapter Text

It’s an easy thing, really. 

To start spending his nights tucked into Henry’s chest.

Did Alex spend the very first night spiraling in the bathroom for 15 minutes before joining Henry on the couch? That’s between him and his bathroom towel. 

What’s important is the resulting courage built in him as he opens the door and power walks to the living room. Henry is in the middle of perusing Netflix, a Thai tea in one hand and the remote in the other. The Thai tea accompanies the Thai food Henry ordered in because it’s Alex’s comfort food and he needed to be comforted. 

Three hours before then, Alex had texted Henry, 

got partnered with hunter again 

and then 20 minutes after, 

this motherfucker just tried to explain the importances of gerrymandering to me im going to strangle him. 

So yeah, Alex wasn’t surprised that he came home to crab rangoons and khao pad and a sympathetic Henry exiting the kitchen with straws for their drinks. 

A Henry who he now texts on a daily basis. He usually sends quick rants about class and Hunter and his dependence on coffee, and Henry usually replies with quick rants about his TA classes and Lord Byron and the utter lack of authentic Earl Grey Tea in their local stores. Every now and then, he’ll text to ask Henry what he’s in the mood for (Henry is a sucker for Alex’s enchiladas). Henry will sometimes forward the pictures Bea sends of David snoozing on his dog bed. 

It’s a casual thing. 

Alex totally doesn’t freak out when he thinks about it, how Henry is not just his roommate now but a friend. A really good friend that already knows Thai is Alex’s favorite and can erase his bad mood once he steps into their home.

“Have you seen Anne With An E before?” Henry asks Alex once he notices his entrance back into the living room. 

Alex shakes his head no and plops down beside Henry, his drink sloshing slightly as their shoulders bump and press against each other. 

Henry hums and takes a sip of his drink. 

“I vote for this, then,” Henry says. 

“Sure. As long as you don’t start pausing every five minutes to explain the historical inaccuracies of the 19th century education system in England.” 

Henry rolls his eyes and lightly smacks Alex’s hand as it reaches for Henry’s drink. Alex snickers and pretends to pout as he rubs his hand to soothe it. 

“Get your own drink, you cretin. And for your information, this is set in Canada at the turn of the 20th century. So, ha.” 

Alex raises his arms in defense. “Alright, alright. Don’t get your knickers in a twist, your majesty.” 

Henry scoffs, “Please don’t try to use English phrases around me ever again. I’ll vomit.” He presses play on the screen and settles back into the sofa. 

Alex shakes his head and chuckles softly, but he spends a few seconds bent forward towards the coffee table, pretending to be occupied with the straw on his own drink. 

Justdoit, races through his mind a million times over. He gulps down his nerves and exhales softly. He nods ever so slightly to himself for that last bit of courage and straightens back out, plan in action. 

This time, when he leans back against the couch, instead of his shoulder sliding next to Henry’s, it settles on top. The rest of his arm follows, resting on top of Henry’s until Alex’s bracelet clangs against the remote that is still in Henry’s hand. 

Step one: check.

Henry lets out a small noise at their new awkward position and leaves the remote on his lap as he starts to shift his body away from Alex.

“Oh, sorry, let me move—” he quietly lets out as he tries to create some distance between them. 

Step two: check.

Before Henry’s able to do so, Alex grips Henry’s wrist with the hand furthest away from him, halting his movements. Henry lets out an oh but Alex doesn’t let himself hesitate as he lifts Henry’s arm up and over, draping it over the back of the couch and onto his shoulders. 

Alex can’t help how his body practically melts back into the right side of Henry’s chest, engulfed in Henry’s warmth and scent. 

Step three: check.

He stares straight ahead at the TV, pretending to be invested in the characters on the screen and not completely aware of the way Henry hasn’t really moved. The arm Alex used to drape Henry’s over him has fallen onto his lap, slightly digging his nails into the fabric of his sweats. 

He tries not to think about how easy it is to breathe again when Henry moves a few moments later, his hand squeezing the top of Alex’s bicep and slightly pulling Alex a bit deeper into him. He can feel Henry’s deep exhale. He tries very hard to keep a smile at bay. 

He doesn’t overthink how Henry’s laughs rumble through his own body throughout the night. How easy it is for his head to tilt back onto Henry’s chest when sleep starts to creep into his eyes. How he feels Henry’s lips graze against his curls as he whispers, “We’ll finish this episode and you can head off to sleep.” 

The next night, when Henry fails to suppress an amused smile and opens his arms to Alex with a come here, then, Alex thanks his God for blessing him with his brown skin, that can hide the heat in his cheeks as he grumbles a whatever and settles into Henry’s embrace.

Two more nights in, and Henry huffs out an oof when Alex flings his body across Henry’s after finishing their dinner. “You’re crushing my stomach,” Henry breathes out.

“That sucks,” Alex replies, purposefully pushing his back further into Henry’s firm body. Henry lets out a groan and wraps both of his arms around Alex’s torso to shift them to a more comfortable position. Alex lets out a squeak when Henry quickly pinches his ribs. Henry keeps his arms there for the rest of the night. 

Falling into Henry’s arms only seems right after that. 

It’s easy, for Alex to greet Henry with an unwavering smile every evening and tuck himself into his chest. It’s easy to crack jokes at every moment he gets, just to feel the way Henry’s warm laugh in his ears syncs in time with the vibrations against Alex’s back. 

When it turns midnight on Friday and Alex tries his hardest to hide his yawn into his palm, it’s easy for Alex to whine into the air as Henry teases him about staying up past his curfew. 

Just one more episode, Alex whispers out. A light tickle against his ribs by faint fingers as Henry responds, alright, just one more. 

—

A week later, Alex comes home to an empty apartment.

It’s not early. It’s 6pm. Alex’s usual time of arrival. He knows Henry’s last class on Fridays is a seminar on Literary Romanticism, which ends at 3pm and gives Henry ample time to arrive before Alex.

So. Alex is confused. 

He pulls out his phone from his jacket and clicks it on. He’s met with a picture of June, devouring the barbecue ribs he made at last year’s 4th of July trip to his dad’s lakehouse. And no messages from Henry. 

Huh.

After opening up their text conversation and quickly scrolling through their short message bubbles from that day, Alex types out

hey! are you coming home soon? 

and tells himself to continue his routine. 

He doesn’t mind being the one to prepare their set up tonight. If anything, Henry might have gone to the store and bought some snacks since they did finish all of their Cheeto puffs two nights before. He’ll be here soon. 

Alex goes to shower. No text. He sends another message, 

eta?

He makes dinner: fajitas with mild spice for Henry’s sensitive stomach. No text.

He makes coffee, plates their food, brings out a freshly washed blanket from their hallway closet, and turns on the TV to the Netflix homescreen. 

It’s 8pm. No text. He sends one final message, 

are you okay?

Alex doesn’t really know what to do. 

His mind is starting to race, trying to pick apart all the things he and Henry have talked about the last few days. Desperately hoping his mind will suddenly remember if Henry mentioned if he was going out tonight. If he was going to meet a friend or supervise an exam or go on a date—

Alex sharply inhales. Alright. No biggie. Whatever Henry is doing, it is not something to freak out over. He’s allowed to be off his phone for a night. 

Sure, they haven’t really stopped their watch party ritual since the very first night it happened. And, yes, Alex has had some nights where he comes home later than usual so he adequately alerts Henry beforehand. Henry should know the drill for unexpected disturbances in their routine. 

But, whatever. Alex won’t hold it against him. People forget. No big deal. 

He shakes his head and trods off to his room. Might as well get ahead with his assignments. Even though he’s practically flipped his entire day schedule around this past month to make sure he comes home every day with no impending deadlines; he’s already 3 weeks ahead of every class syllabus this semester. He’s sure he can find some readings he hasn’t gotten around to. 

Once he’s retrieved his laptop from his bag and settled himself into his sheets, he attempts to distract himself with his work. It takes him a while to quiet the voice in his head telling him to pick up his phone every 2 minutes. But it goes away, eventually, once he receives an outreach email from an internship located in West Virginia, that leads him into an internet deepdive of the state’s congressional districts history and their US Senator’s announcement to leave his decade-long Senate seat and his smear campaign against the President and—

The shrilling sound of a phone ringing brings him out of his tunnel vision. His head whips up and over to his phone, placed on his bedside table. A picture of a pink-faced Henry lights up his screen; he’s smiling abashedly at the camera with streaks of mole on either side of his mouth. It was from a few days before, when Alex made mole de pollo for dinner and Henry was practically moaning around each bite until Alex begged to take a picture of his messy face to memorialize his cooking skills that night. 

He picks up the phone and swipes the accept button. He hardly has time to say hello before Henry’s panicked voice carries through the speaker. 

“Oh God, Alex. I am so sorry. I completely forgot to tell you, my students asked to have a last minute revision session for one of their papers and we agreed on 5pm and I didn’t even realize my phone died until halfway through but I didn’t bring a charger and the only person who did was charging their phone and they have to commute so I wanted to make sure they had enough charge before they drove home and we ended up going over time anyways because it turns out, everyone interpreted the prompt wrong so we spent the majority of today scrapping what they already had and begin writing new drafts and we just finished and I finally have enough charge to call you and I am on my way home and I am so so so sorry, Alex.” 

“Oh,” Alex starts, eyes a little wide from the unexpected spewing of apologies he just received from the other end of the call. 

“Um,” he clears his throat. “It’s okay.” He hears a small distorted noise come from his phone. “Just didn’t want to go looking for your dead body anytime soon.” He lets out with a weak laugh, closing his eyes and physically cringing at how pathetic that last sentence came out. 

“I’ll be home in 20 minutes, alright?”

“Okay. Don’t die.”

A soft huff from Henry.

“I’ll try not to.” 

It’s 9pm when Alex hears the front door unlock. He can hear Henry rummaging, the sound of heavy walking turning light as he takes off his shoes near the foyer where the rest of them are. 

He hears the clinking of plates and oh shit, he forgot the food on the coffee table. He knows Henry is storing them away because he hears the fridge open and close a few times. 

He doesn’t really know what to do right now, laying upright on his bed. 

He technically has 3 hours until his bedtime (yes, he actually does have a bedtime). But he feels like it’d be too much to ask Henry to stay up and entertain him for a few more hours after it seems he had a quite tiring evening. He knows that Henry knows he’s still awake, considering they just talked on the phone 20 minutes before and Alex’s bedroom light is still on. But he doesn’t know what to do.

Henry decides for him. 

There’s a knock on his door and Henry’s muffled voice breaks the silence, “Alex? Can I come in?” 

Alex clears his throat and lets out a quiet yeah. The door opens and Henry’s face peeks through the small crack he’s made. There’s a smile on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, his hair tussled like he’s ran his hands through them a million times. He looks so tired. Alex is definitely not going to ask him to stay up any longer than he should be. 

“Hey,” Henry begins. “I just want to apologize again for not texting you. It was completely irresponsible of me.” Alex begins to shake his head and attempts to turn down Henry’s apology. Henry beats him to it, a stern look on his face. “No, Alex. I need to apologize. You didn’t deserve to be left out in the dark like that.” 

Alex can’t do anything but stare back at Henry, letting the apology sink in. Letting the last few hours of confusion and anxiety sink in. Yeah, he thinks. I didn’t deserve that.

Instead, he says, “You didn’t do it on purpose.”

Henry replies a bit fiercely, “Doesn’t excuse the fact that it was wrong.” 

Alex doesn’t really know what to say next, so he just says, “Okay.” He continues to stare at Henry, seeing a hint of desperation rest in Henry’s eyes as he searches for something in Alex. 

“Are you—” Henry begins, his head landing softly against the door frame, a shoulder peeking through the door as he leans on the frame. “Are you off to bed now?” 

Alex looks down at himself, his laptop on sleep mode from being inactive and his lower body covered in his sheets. He looks back up at Henry and shrugs, tilting one side of his mouth into a half-smile. 

“Maybe. I’m warm here, so. Don’t wanna get up.” 

There’s a subtle flicker in Henry’s face, the left side of his mouth threatening to tilt down. His face remains neutral, though. Alex kind of panics at the thought of hurting Henry’s feelings. 

“IhaveNetflix.” he blabs out, blinking up at Henry. Henry blinks back as well, taking a second to process Alex’s words. His neutral face turns befuddled. 

“Yes…I’m aware. That’s how we watch our shows, Alex.” 

“No, I mean—I have Netflix on my laptop. Right here.” He uses a hand to lift the laptop off his lap just enough to motion it towards Henry. A pause. “So.” 

Henry flicks his eyes between the laptop and Alex. The gulp in his throat is barely noticeable.

“Okay.” 

Alex kind of wants to punch Henry in the face, right now. Instead, he exhales sharply and tries to control the heat in his face. 

“Henry, would you like to watch our show in my room tonight?”

The twitch in Henry’s eyebrows and the rose tint fading onto his cheeks betray the neutral expression he’s returned to. He clears his throat and nods. 

“Yeah. Yes. I’ll—” Henry smiles softly. “I’ll go wash up. Give me 10 minutes.” 

Alex smiles at that too, finding the small irony of Henry finally being the one to come home to a roommate patiently waiting for their show to start. 

Alex has already closed out of all his tabs and switched to Netflix by the time Henry returns. He’s switched his bedside lamp to a dimmer setting; he’s itching to grab the glasses tucked into his drawer next to him but for some reason, that seems a bit too vulnerable for Alex’s liking. 

He’s now realizing this is the first time Henry has ever stepped foot into his room. There’s an endless pit in his stomach as he watches Henry grasp his sheets and climb in. 

Alex should have realized cuddling in his bed was a lot more dangerous compared to cuddling on the couch. 

He falls asleep within half an hour. 

This time, when he wakes up in the morning to the sound of his 8am alarm and is greeted with an empty bed, there is no initial panic threatening to consume him. He doesn’t try to think about the disappointment that settles inside him instead. 

It’s a Saturday, so he comes home earlier than normal, straight from the cafe. He has just finished his weekly call with June and Nora and his cheeks and mouth feel sore from the 2-hour chaos they curated between their three screens. 

They were able to clock the brooding cloud of confusion and feelings on his face within the first 10 minutes. It only took them 5 more to weasel it out of him. (“Awe, Alex. You’re so lonely that you had to beg your estranged roommate to spend time with you?” “Shut up Nora.”) (“Alex. That’s so sweet. Give me Henry’s number so I can text him all of the romcoms you wholeheartedly sob to.” “I’m going to virtually strangle you, Bug.”)

At first, Alex thinks Henry is gone and missing again, since the TV is turned off and there is no food on the coffee table. But once his shoes clatter against the floor as he puts them away in their place, he can hear a shift on the cushions and then Henry appears, sitting up from where he was hidden beneath the back of the couch. 

“Hey,” Alex says.

“Hi,” Henry breathes out. He smiles but. It’s a little shy. 

Alex nods towards the TV, starting to feel a little nervous. 

“Um, no Anne with an E today?” 

Henry stutters out, “O-oh. Um—Actually, I didn’t know if—Well, I didn’t wanna assume anything but, I mean. It’s Saturday so, I guess I thought—since you usually have a later bedtime on the weekends, um…” Henry trails off, his eyes fluttering as he tries to maintain eye contact but fails so. 

Alex doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry. The noise he lets out seems like a mixture of both. 

Henry looks a bit flushed and scared and God, Alex would not hear the end of it if he ever told June and Nora about this. About how good it feels to know he’s not been humiliating himself the past month with how desperate he’s coming across to Henry. How his heart rate started picking up just now as he comes to the realization that Henry didn’t turn on the TV because he’s suggesting to watch their show in Alex’s room again. That he’s just as scared as Alex feels whenever he pushes himself to be brave and to ask for what he wants. 

That Henry wants this. 

Alex doesn’t say a word as he shifts his bag off his shoulder to grip with his hand and treads off towards his room. 

Once he reaches the beginning of the hallway, he turns around and simply asks a confused Henry, “You coming?” 

“Oh.” 

Henry scrambles off the couch, trailing behind him.

It’s Henry who settles in bed first and drags Alex into him. 

Chapter Text

“Henry!” 

The front door of the apartment bursts open as quickly as it’s slammed shut. Clattering of shoes against the foyer table. 

“HenryHenryHenryHenry—”

“Christ, Alex. Calm down. You nearly yanked the door off its hinges.” 

Henry is on the couch, as usual. He has his laptop open and one earbud in. Alex always feels warm inside when he arrives home and sees his roommate waiting for him. 

Today, he feels warm and excited. 

Alex is quick to shrug off his bag and strides the few feet in front of him, jostling the entire couch as he practically lunges onto the cushions to sit opposite Henry. There’s a lidded cup in his hand.

He thrusts it forward, nearly hitting Henry’s face. 

“Here,” he says. 

Henry is quick to jolt back at the sudden object in front of him, nearly going cross eyed as he tries to focus on the logo printed on the cup sleeve. 

“Trimana Cafe? Is The Lucky Duck closed today?” 

Alex shakes his head. He lets Henry inspect the cup for two more seconds before shaking the cup in front of him exasperatedly. 

“Drink it.” 

Tentative hands reach up to take the cup. Henry quirks an eyebrow at Alex.

“You do know I hate the taste of coffee, right? Or have you completely missed out on our opposing choice of beverage?” 

“Oh my god, Henry. Just drink from the damn cup.” 

Henry lets out a hmph before raising the cup to his lip and takes a slow sip. It only takes a second for the hesitant look on his face to be replaced with surprise, both eyebrows raised up and eyes lighting up with interest.

Alex can’t help the grin from spreading across his lips. 

“Thoughts?” he asks, shuffling on the couch so his legs are bent criss-crossed, directly facing Henry opposite him. 

Henry takes another sip, this time a bit longer. He hums. One more sip before he brings the cup down to his lap. 

“This is amazing, Alex. Probably the best Earl Grey strain I’ve had here. Where did you find it?”

Alex is beaming, as if he made the damn tea himself and is hearing Henry praise his tea making skills. Maybe he should learn, he thinks, how to make a proper cup of tea. He would do anything to make Henry look the way he looks now. 

“There’s a new cafe that opened a few blocks past the one I go to,” he starts.

“The Lucky Duck,” Henry butts in. 

Alex smiles wider, if it’s even possible. Henry has never been there. This means he just knows that’s Alex’s spot. 

“Yeah, The Lucky Duck,” he continues. “I decided to stop by and see if it compared. The coffee is okay. Their dark roast doesn’t quite have the bitterness I enjoy. But. Their menu practically boasted about having the best tea selection in the entire state. So. Obviously I had to get an expert’s opinion.”

Henry blushes softly at that, a bashful smile creeping onto his lips. He rolls his eyes at Alex but brings the cup back up to take another sip. 

“Right. Well. Opinion provided. I would agree with that statement.” 

Alex feels victorious. 

“Although, it really doesn’t compare to what the UK offers, like Taylors,” Henry shrugs. He looks at Alex with a pleased smile. “Thank you, though. Maybe I’ll stop by when I have the time.” 

Alex nods at that. He continues to stare at Henry as he starts clicking on his laptop with one hand while sipping from his cup with the other. Alex thinks Henry isn’t actually aware how quickly he’s going through the drink—it’s a bit endearing. He wonders how fast Henry would drink his tea if he had Taylors, whatever that brand was. Wonders if the bulk packages Henry would buy would run out even quicker than the current one on the kitchen counter always does. 

He’s stuck in his own world of teas and Henry when he hears the smack of Henry’s laptop shut close. He refocuses his eyes to Henry again and is met with curious eyes. 

“Did you drink your coffee too quickly today?” Henry teases.

Alex shakes his head out of his thoughts and scoffs. He purposely bangs his knee against Henry’s as he goes to stand up. Henry retaliates by pushing Alex’s hip with his hand before standing up himself. He follows behind Alex as they tread off to the kitchen.

“Oh please. You are not one to judge. That tea is piping hot and it's like halfway gone already. I just got here, you addict.” 

Henry rolls his eyes but doesn’t rebuttal. He makes his way to the counter next to the stove and leaves his cup on the surface momentarily so he can hop up and plant himself next to it. Alex is already opening the fridge and looking inside for available ingredients.

This is a thing they do now, too. Alex cooking dinner and ranting about his day while Henry watches next to him, adding little quips and responses. It’s incredibly domestic and Alex is incredibly overwhelmed by it sometimes.  

“Is it too much to ask for enchiladas again?” Henry asks.

Alex snorts and shakes his head. He’s already crouching down and reaching for the chicken breasts and tortillas before he turns his head to look up at Henry.

“Would it kill you to say please?”

Henry’s eyes are slits as he glares back. 

“Alex. Will you pretty please make enchiladas again?”

“Only because you pronounced it a bit better this time around.” 

Henry rolls his eyes. 

“My Spanish is impeccable. I don’t know what you are talking about.” He juts his chin out in defiance.

“Alright, sure. Your Royal Highness.” 

“Hmph. Your referring to me as a prince is not offensive in the slightest.”

Alex smirks as he begins preparing the ingredients. 

“I’m referring to you as a princess.”

He almost cuts his finger as a whine leaves Henry’s lips. He whips his head up to look at him. Henry is red and glaring even more.

“Shut up.” 

Alex lets out a laugh and drinks in the pretty color tinted on his roommates cheeks. 

“Just finish your tea, Henry.”

Henry grumbles but moves his hand to pick up the cup and do so. 

They spend the rest of their time in the kitchen with spiels about Don Quixote and Spanish Imperialism and the Baroque period in Mexico and anything and everything they could intertwine their knowledge together.

It’s not hard for one of them to pick a topic and the other to contribute and expand on with their own niches. They work so well together. It should scare Alex, really. How insanely compatible they are. How they’ve managed to completely turn over 6 months of being strangers to knowing exactly how to spur the other on, in the span of one month. 

It should terrify him.

Instead, a smile is permanent on his face—and perhaps his heart steadily aches—as Henry rambles on about Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz with a crumbling enchilada in his hand.

—

It’s dark and quiet in Alex’s room when he first wakes up on Thursday. It takes a few seconds for the muffled sound of crickets chirping outside his window to register in his ears. It takes a few more seconds for Alex to realize that he’s waking up in the middle of night, and Henry is in the process of detangling their limbs from underneath Alex’s blanket. 

He can’t help the soft grumble that escapes his mouth, something that would be barely audible if not for the deafening silence of the night. His eyes are attempting to open while simultaneously giving into the heaviness of his eyelids. A shiver runs down his spine as Henry manages to slide out from Alex’s embrace and slip out of his bed. 

It’s a valiant attempt, on Alex’s end, to try and open his mouth so he can ask Henry where he is going. Why he can’t seem to fathom the idea of staying in bed with Alex until day breaks. 

But as his bottom lip twitches with the effort of trying to whisper out Henry, Alex feels the weight of delicate fingers brushing the curls behind his ear, effectively silencing him. A small waft of air hits his nose and the familiar scent of vanilla makes his brain fuzzy all over again. Alex isn’t strong enough to fight against the sleep pulling him under once more.

He wakes up again later, to the sound of his alarm. The other side of his bed is cold. 

It’s not until Alex is on his way to class, shoes skidding against the pavement, when he finally gets hit with the memory of the early morning. 

It’s all he can think about for the next few minutes it takes him to reach campus. 

What time did Henry leave his room last night? Did he even go to sleep? Or was he just awake with Alex in his arms? Was he bored out of his mind without any Great British Bake Off reruns to remedy his insomniac tendencies? Did he have to stare up at the ceiling and be forced to listen to Alex’s breathing? Oh God, does Alex snore? He’s never been told but, what if everyone has just been polite and he actually does snore and has been snoring on Henry this entire time? Alex is going to have to download a sleep recording app and secretly record himself throughout the night so he can figure out if he snores and then subsequently Google how to fix his snoring within a day so Henry doesn’t have to—

Ping. 

Alex pulls out his phone to read the new message he just received.

Could you bring another cup from Trimana today? I can buy dinner tonight. (:

A stutter in his step mirrors the stutter in Alex’s heart. He texts back.

Sure thinggg chicken winnggg

A text bubble forms and disappears within seconds. 

I will evict you if you use that phrase ever again. 

Five minutes later, Alex is asked by a classmate why he’s smiling at 8 in the morning. He shrugs. 

“Just been sleeping well lately,” he responds.

The smile stays for the rest of the day. 

— 

Alex almost trips on his way to the kitchen one morning. 

As he fumbles for the light switch for the annoyingly bright kitchen light, he grumbles a few curses into the air and whatever he will find illuminated on the ground that slipped under his socked foot. 

He should have figured it would be Henry’s book. 

The man is so well-mannered with putting away his belongings as soon as he has no need for them. It is so rare for Alex to find something astray. It really takes an excruciating day of mental labor and gymnastics for Henry to forget to put the Brita back in the fridge after refilling it, or forget to take his clothes out of the dryer. 

But this damn book. Pride and Prejudice. 

Alex should make a spreadsheet on the different locations he finds the book lying in and rank them by frequency. He could probably make an entire powerpoint presentation on it. 

He shakes his head in amusement, crouching down enough to swipe the book from down below. The quick movement makes the pages flutter. He catches a glimpse of black and blue ink on the margins of a few of those pages. 

Of course, Henry is the type to annotate his books. The man lives and breathes literature. Alex kind of does the same thing with articles he comes across online—except, without the option of writing on the article’s website, he resorts to opening his notes app and writing down every single thought that crosses his mind as he reads through. He used to send the articles to June and Nora, but they quickly got tired of it and told him to shut up or they’d permanently block him on both their phones. Alex wonders if he tells Henry he could rant to him about his books whenever he’d like, he wouldn’t have to annotate as much. 

He shakes his head at the thought and walks the few steps ahead of him to place the book down on the counter for Henry to find when he eventually wakes up again.

Before he does, though, he pauses. He stares down at the book as it sits in his hand still, not yet making contact with the surface. 

Listen. He’s curious. 

This is the one and only book Henry ever leaves outside his bedroom. The rare other few books he’s seen Henry read have always stayed within his reach and leave with him wherever he goes. And, actually, now that he thinks about it. Alex has never actually seen Henry read Pride and Prejudice. Has never even seen the book in Henry’s hands whenever they are both home. And, okay—yes, he does tend to overanalyze and stress over the smallest details that truly don’t mean anything. But the lack of seeing Henry read this damn book that never stays in one spot for more than a day kind of makes Alex believe it's a bit private for Henry. Like he doesn’t want to risk Alex walking in on him reading it.  

Alex doesn’t really know the rules of etiquette in reading your roommates annotated book whom you assume has an undying love for and will probably kill a human being to make sure they never lose sight of it.

Is it an invasion of privacy? If Henry found out, would he get mad? Feel exposed? Betrayed? 

Fuck it. 

Alex opens up the book, the bookmark slightly slipping downing the slit of the pages as he expands the book in his hands. The pages look worn but generally well-kept, considering the various places Alex has seen it thrown around. He’s surprised they’re not crusted over from accidental tea spills or dog-eared to the nines. 

There are a few ink marks, some phrases underlined and one exclamation point drawn into the end of a paragraph. But the most noticeable addition to the page is a sentence underlined with scribbled writing next to it. Alex squints down to read the small font without the aid of his glasses. 

She followed him with her eyes, envied every one to whom he spoke, had scarcely patience enough to help anybody to coffee; and then enraged against herself for being so silly!

To the left of this sentence, in the empty margins of the page, sits a neatly written annotation:

I don’t ever want to share you. 

Alex doesn’t know why his stomach flutters at that. 

He tries to ignore the question threatening to cement itself on the forefront of his mind, who is this about?

His first cup of coffee almost slips out of his hands a few minutes later, and Alex blames his weak grip on being distracted with the day’s assignments. 

The kitchen light is almost left on as he scrambles to leave. At the last moment, as he looks up from his bag to retrieve his keys, he realizes his mistake and goes to turn it off. He’s right next to the book again. 

And well. It wouldn’t hurt to look again. 

He looks up at the hallway as he reaches for the book again, as if Henry would ever voluntarily wake up anytime before 9am on his late start days. He looks back down once the coast is clear and his hands quickly pry the book open, to a new page this time. 

This one only has one instance of marking. 

“My dear Eliza he must be in love with you, or he would never have called on us in this familiar way.”

Underneath it is written:

One can dream.

As if scorched by the ink itself, Alex drops the book back on the counter and lets it clatter closed. He turns and strides out of the apartment, quickly shutting the door and locking it without much thought. His steps are quick and firm against the cement pavement as he walks to campus.

His gaze is locked straight ahead of him, his jaw slightly locked as he wonders how long those inked words have been inscribed into the book. 

—

That night, Alex wakes up to Henry leaving again. 

His brain is still as sleep-addled as the last time, body heavy and sinking into his mattress as the light of the full moon spills through his curtains into the room. 

The sound of Henry’s legs swishing underneath the sheets as he creeps out of bed causes his brain to stir a bit more awake. He manages to keep his breathing steady and holds back the small whine in his throat from the cold air caressing his skin as the sheets are lifted with Henry’s retreat. 

Alex keeps his body still as he tries to calm down his heart, which has now started to beat a bit faster, with a hint of ache permeating underneath his layer of skin. 

He listens for Henry’s footsteps. A few steps to right himself up and off the bed. A few more to walk the short distance to Alex’s desk where Henry left his phone charging earlier that night. And. 

A few steps back until Alex can feel Henry’s presence at the side of his bed once more. 

Alex thinks Henry can hear the way his heart dropped for a second before starting to race against his ribcage. 

The urge to blink his eyes open to see what Henry is doing is threatening to disrupt his otherwise convincing performance of unconsciousness. 

Eventually, a soft sigh leaves Henry’s lips somewhere above Alex. 

He’s scared witless when he feels warm fingers softly run through the curls on his head. A successful attempt is made to contain his startle to just a slight twitch of the head, passing off as a sleep-ridden Alex unconsciously reacting to a foreign touch. 

As quick as Henry’s fingers touch him, though, they’re gone. 

Footsteps are heard again, this time with a door opening and closing softly a few seconds later.

It takes a few minutes for Alex to allow himself to open his eyes and stare into the void of his dimly lit bedroom. His heart is maintaining a steady but still heavy beat as he lets himself acknowledge two things into the empty space in front of him.

1. He doesn’t want Henry to leave his room anymore.
2. He wants to run his hand through Henry’s hair too.

—

Alex knows what kind of roommate Henry is. He knows how much of a homebody he is, preferring to finish his assignments and readings at home rather than the campus library. He knows how much he hates showering in the morning and will brush his teeth multiple times because he always needs to indulge in another late night snack before bed. 

He also knows what kind of brother Henry is. How incredibly protective he is over his sister, despite her being the older sibling. How he gets his dry humor from her and has been chastised by the woman numerous times for losing his British wit the longer he spends in America. How he misses her every day, if the countless times Henry references her to Alex are anything to go by. He has a great relationship with his sister, there’s no denying. 

But this all makes him wonder why it is so hard for Alex to figure out who Henry is in the context of his brother, Phillip. 

Henry rarely brings him up, seeming to only be forced to do so when a story he’s recounting necessitates the mention of him. Even with that, he always keeps Phillip’s involvement short and simple, enough to give sufficient information so he can go on with the rest of his story. If Alex ever tries to slyly pry, asking for a little more about how Phillip ties in or how he feels about him now, Henry is quick to avert his eyes, cough a strained cough, and try to immediately change the subject or distract Alex with a witty comment or joke. 

Alex gets a glimpse into what might be the reason one night. 

The sound of Henry’s phone ringing is quiet but cutting while they’re watching the first season of The Legend of Korra. It startles Alex as the ringtone is unfamiliar to him, and Henry’s eyebrows furrow as he reaches over to check the caller ID. Alex is only able to catch a glimpse of an unsaved +44 number displaying across the screen before Henry drops it face down and curses softly to himself. His eyes close and he tilts his head up to the ceiling, a small gulp going down his throat. 

“Henry?” Alex attempts. The characters on the screen are loud against the sudden tension in the room. 

He’s answered with a small head shake. A few seconds pass until Henry finally opens his eyes and grabs his phone, snaking his arm out from around Alex’s waist and moving from behind to stand up. 

“Just—give me a minute.” 

Alex nods and goes to pause the show. Now that Henry is absent from behind him, he’s lying a bit awkwardly against his pillows. He shuffles around until he’s properly sitting up, keeping his eyes at Henry as he stares down his phone with a hand running through his ruffled blonde locks. He seems to take another moment to collect his thoughts before finally strutting out of the room, the sound of his own bedroom door opening and closing once he leaves Alex’s sight.

Alex tries really hard to not eavesdrop, he does. 

He knows he’s being a bit of a hypocrite considering he’s never bothered trying to give Henry privacy before, when he hears him laughing and rambling on to his sister whenever they call. No attempt to let Henry have his alone time with his family has been made by Alex. He’s awful, he knows. So he wants to at least give Henry his privacy this time around. But God, the cold look in Henry’s eyes as he stared down at the unsaved number is replaying in Alex’s mind and he just has to know what that was all about. 

It’s proving to be a bit difficult this time around. Usually, the sound of Henry’s voice is able to easily carry through their thin walls. And yet, even with his breath held and his eyes closed as he focuses all his energy into listening in, he can only hear the very soft muffling of inaudible whispers from the other room. The idea of Henry purposefully speaking quietly so Alex has no chance of hearing him is making him even more on edge. 

Some relief comes in a minute or two, though, when Alex’s ears pick up on a sharp “Christ, Phillip, stop” and then an “it was hard enough—” a few moments after. Nothing else is heard. 

As in, nothing. Henry’s voice no longer muffled as it becomes completely silent in their apartment. No sound of footsteps is heard either. 

Alex is absolutely losing his mind. 

His mind is racing as he stays in bed for the next 10 minutes, straining to hear any semblance of Henry’s presence in the adjacent room. As the tenth minute passes, he lets out a soft sigh and allows his heart to ache a bit, giving up on the idea of Henry coming back with any enthusiasm to finish their night together. He doesn’t want to push his luck and seek out Henry, now that he knows it was Phillip on the other line. If just the mention of his brother during a casual conversation during the day is enough to dampen the mood, he can’t imagine how Henry’d react to Alex knowing something is wrong between them. 

Letting disappointment settle into his bones, Alex slowly lifts his hand to rest on top of his laptop screen, going to pull it down and close it. He’s about halfway through when his eyes flick up to the sound of a creak outside his door. Henry makes no noise as he opens the door a bit further to let himself through, only giving Alex a small glance before setting his eyes downwards as he walks back to the bed. 

Hitching his breath, Alex keeps completely still as he watches Henry, following his movement until he’s standing beside him. His eyes search for any hint of what Henry might be thinking right now. He’s doing the thing Alex has learned to recognize, trying to maintain his face neutral when he’s clearly upset. The slight downward tilt of his lips is his give away. 

Alex gives Henry a moment before whispering out, “Henry?” 

One side of his mouth twitches a bit further down before Henry’s eyes meet his. His hand reaches up to slightly nudge Alex’s shoulder, signaling for him to budge up.

Alex watches Henry carefully as he shuffles a bit towards the center of the bed, pulling the sheets back so Henry can crawl in. Neither of them make a sound as Henry settles, immediately reaching out to Alex and pulling until they’re flushed up against each other. His hands feel scorching hot as they wrap themselves around Alex’s waist, firmly gripping onto his loose pajama shirt. They end up with Alex’s back completely pressed against Henry’s chest, the top of his head right below Henry’s chin. 

He attempts to turn his head so he can look at Henry and ask if he’s okay but Henry squeezes even more and brings his head down to rest his mouth against the top of Alex’s curls, effectively inhibiting any further movement. 

Alex can feel the warm breath escaping Henry’s lips as he whispers into his hair, “Let’s watch the show, Alex.”

Huffing out a breath at basically being manhandled into not prying, Alex internally shakes his head and opens his laptop fully again. He doesn’t press play though. He moves the cursor to exit the fullscreen and go back to the Netflix homepage. 

“Alex, please,” Henry sighs out, flexing his right hand against the fabric of Alex’s shirt. “I just want to finish—”

Alex shushes him. 

He has to manually open the search bar and type in The Great British Bake Off, since Henry will watch the show on his own account in the living room. 

“What’s the latest episode you’ve watched?”

A pause before Henry answers.

“Collection 8. Japanese Week.” 

“Color me offended.” 

“Give them a little faith.” 

Alex lets out a soft snort as he puts the episode on, readjusting the laptop so the screen is facing them better. His head falls back against Henry’s chest. It moves along with Henry’s soft breathing. 

The rest of the night is spent with whispered comments between the two men. Alex has never seen an episode of the show so most of his comments are general questions about the logistics, with occasional snarky remarks about how much better he would do if he was on the show. Henry would humor him with the latter, but would whisper back with patient words whenever Alex was confused with an element of the show. At some point, Henry lifts Alex’s shirt just enough to pinch the warm skin underneath, when Alex teases Henry over obsessing over a baking show when he’s never made anything more than a sandwich in their kitchen. Alex’s heart threatens to jump out of his chest at the touch. 

Alex falls asleep first, as always. And he wakes up to Henry’s departure once more. 

It takes so much strength within him to keep from reaching out and keep Henry pressed next to him.  

— 

“No, you’re kidding me, Hen. I refuse to believe you.”

“I absolutely swear to you on my life, Alex.”

“He saw you in your underwear stained with chocolate ice cream and didn’t immediately think you'd shat yourself?” 

“I’m telling you, Percy is the greatest gift I have ever received upon this Earth.” 

Alex throws his head back with a cackle as he walks down the sidewalk with Henry beside him. They are on their way back from eating dinner at a pizza spot downtown. 

A bit of a break in their routine, considering they’ve only ever cooked or ordered takeout before this. But Alex is about to start his intensive studying for his final exams in the incoming weeks and wants to properly rest his brain before it spirals into overdrive. 

He’s always a bit worried he’s going to go too far this time in terms of tunnel vision, having never really mastered the art of hydrating and resting between hours long study sessions. He barely managed last year, it being his first year physically away from his support system (June and Nora). And that was only because they were still in their early stages of their new jobs and had a little bit more down time to check up on him and make sure he was taking care of himself. 

He’s still trying to figure out how he’s going to work it out this year. If it would be too much to ask Henry to call him if he notices he hasn’t come home at his usual time, or if he could knock on his door if it was past midnight and he notices Alex’s bedroom light is still peaking through the bottom of his door. He’s become more comfortable with the idea that Henry isn’t absolutely annoyed with Alex’s presence, sure. But you can’t really blame the man for still holding onto the fear that he is just one step away from asking too much from his roommate. 

The point is, they’re walking back to their apartment, stuffed with pies and soda, and Henry is telling Alex about his best mate Percy (nicknamed Pez like the candy) and their scheming days back in secondary school. 

It’s been a whirlwind of English phrases and terms for the past 20 minutes. 

“You must miss him a lot?” Alex comments, with a question mark tailing the end. Henry shrugs with a smile.

“Of course I do. But he’s been able to visit me a few times since I’ve moved. Spring Break is when I saw him last.”

Alex hums. 

“And your sister? Have you seen her since you’ve moved?”

Henry crosses his arms as the evening’s wind raises goosebumps on their skin. 

“Only once, two years ago. She was able to ask for a holiday from work to come spend the month of December with me for Christmas and New Years.” Alex nods along. Henry hesitates before adding, “And well, I haven’t gone back to the UK since I’ve moved. So.”

Alex nods again, not being able to find the words to respond. His mind flashes back to the nephew Henry has mentioned never being able to meet. Now he knows why; he’s never actually gone back to get the chance to. Or at least, that’s what he assumes.

“It was by far the best Christmas I’ve experienced here,” Henry continues. “It’s actually funny, now that I think about it. I was on the verge of breaking up with my partner at the time, and the happiness I felt in that month with my sister was what solidified that I haven’t felt anything close to that in my relationship in a very long time.”

A chuckle leaves Henry’s mouth as Alex scoffs. 

“Jesus, Henry. That’s a bit morbid,” Alex teases, shaking his head at the man beside him. “Was it that bad?”

“Yes! I’m not being morbid for your amusement, trust me.” Henry responds. He’s smiling at himself as he recounts. “We were 7 months into the relationship and I was having a hard time figuring out if the dread I felt was because of my impending final thesis proposal or if it was just having to be in the same room as him. As soon as I realized— Shit, Alex, are you alright?”

Henry stops in his tracks as his arms quickly reach up and out, catching Alex before he completely wipes his face on the ground. 

Alex tripped in his steps, heart thudding loudly against his chest. He nods and coughs slightly, righting himself steady before shaking Henry’s hands off of him. 

“Y–yeah, sorry. I think there was a crack in the sidewalk.” 

There wasn’t a crack. 

Alex just completely short circuited hearing the word him come out of Henry’s mouth. 

Which, okay. Alex shouldn’t be freaking out over this. It’s 2024. Hearing about a person’s same-sex partner should not be something someone freaks out over anymore. This should be as normal as hearing Henry say he’s left-handed, or that he broke a bone in his childhood. He should not be running that simple word over and over and over in his mind as they continue to walk the two blocks left before arriving home. 

It’s not like he’s ever given it too much thought. Henry has never brought up his love life during their casual conversations, rarely even mentioning the few classmates he considers friends but has never seemed to hang out with outside of class. They’ve both been acting like hermits the past few months, completely dedicated to school and work (a small voice in Alex’s head adds and each other). The idea of Henry bringing home a friend, let alone a hook-up has never been at the forefront of his mind. He would be absolutely astounded if he ever mentioned a boyfriend—

That last thought makes him squeeze his eyes shut for a moment. The overwhelming sense of hurt that just washed over him is a bit concerning. He tries to keep his composure as Henry continues talking about Pez’s antics. He can vaguely process the story he’s telling of a camping trip gone wrong, fading into the background as Alex begins to panic in his own world. 

Okay. So. Alex isn’t stupid, believe it or not.

He’s seen enough shitty romcoms and maybe a couple of romance novels to understand what’s going on right now. 

He knows what happens when someone starts getting mad at the idea of their friend dating someone else. 

Objectively speaking, it would have been bound to happen to anyone that spends the majority of their nights sleeping in the arms of their roommate, who happens to be broad and warm and objectively attractive. It’s the perfect formulaic plotline for a modern romance. 

Oh God, Alex thinks. I’m the girl who falls in love with her hot roommate. Oh God, oh God, oh God—

“Am I boring you?” 

Alex widens his eyes and turns his head to look at Henry, who is already looking back at him with an easy expression, his smile turned into a teasing smirk. 

“Oh, sorry. No, I just—” Alex shakes his head and tries his best to smile back at Henry, hopefully erasing any hint of his mental breakdown from his face. 

“I just can’t get over the underwear story,” he says. “I feel like Nora would have immediately taken out her phone to take a picture and humiliate me for the next 5 years.” 

Henry rolls his eyes and turns back to face in front of him. He’s uncrossed his arms again, one of them lifting his hand up to scratch behind his neck. Alex forces himself to look forward as well, not wanting the image of Henry’s bicep to add any more to the absolute panic being swallowed down his throat at this very moment. 

Their walk back to their place lasts another 5 minutes, Henry continuing his story while Alex nods along. He adds some hums and chuckles in between to show he’s paying attention. He does not look back at Henry’s face in those 5 minutes, and he immediately excuses himself to the bathroom as they unlock their front door. 

It takes a lot of strength for him to not curl up in the bathtub and indulge in the panic attack his body oh so badly wants to partake in. 

What he does instead is splash his face with the sink water and stare intensely at his reflection as he, well, reflects. 

He has a crush on Henry. More specifically—he, a man, has feelings for his roommate, another man. 

He, a man who has previously deemed himself straight for the past 24 years of his life, wants to kiss the hell out of Henry, who has now casually mentioned is not straight. 

It takes 9 whopping minutes for Alex to swallow down his new set of nerves and exit the bathroom. His heart genuinely feels like it is going to jump out of his body as he enters his room and sees Henry already setting up Alex’s laptop (Alex told him his password the week before, because, you know, Henry’s the one who stays awake the longest). He tries his best not to flinch when he feels Henry’s finger nestle against his skin a few minutes later. 

It takes him an extra hour to calm his mind before he could feel any trace of sleep take over. Even then, he knows he will dream of Henry. 

— 

Dreaming of kissing Henry and then waking up to the sound of Henry leaving his bed is disorienting.

The entire night had been disorienting really. How quickly the evening had turned from relaxed and cozy to complete mental chaos over a sudden realization of love. 

Well, attraction. Alex can’t bring himself to use the L word when thinking about Henry. He just knows he wants to kiss him and hold his hand and introduce him to his friends and his family and maybe get a dog with him. Casual attraction one normally has towards their roommate whom they cook dinner for and cuddle with every single night. 

Alex kind of hoped he would stop waking up to Henry heading back to his room after tonight. Because he knew his barely conscious brain would not be able to catch up with his body as he makes a soft sound and grabs Henry’s arm without any thought. 

It’s like he’s completely aware of what he’s doing but also not at all processing, really, just how much this is changing everything. 

Henry is stiff as Alex stops him in his tracks, stiff when Alex pulls him to stumble back onto the bed. Alex tries not to feel discouraged as he yanks the sheets back over Henry and pulls again so he’s pressed against him like a few seconds before. 

Alex flutters his eyes open a bit wider to drink in the confusion and hesitance in Henry’s tired eyes. He looks apologetic. Like he’s just been caught doing something wrong. He isn’t wrapping his arms back around Alex like before, both hands instead falling awkwardly between their bodies. Alex knows if he were to look down at them, he would see the ring on his pinky finger being fidgeted with by his other hand. Neither of them attempt to speak in the few seconds of silence between them. 

It takes a huff leaving Alex’s lips and eyes blinking up at Henry with furrowed eyebrows for Henry to finally move. Alex’s eyes flick down to catch as Henry licks his lips. His Adam's apple bobs slightly as he takes in a small gulp. 

The tension in their bodies immediately dissipates once Henry finally tentatively wraps his arms around Alex and pulls him in. Alex’s head gets brought to Henry’s chest and he’s immersed in the scent of tea and vanilla and Henry. 

It doesn’t take long for Alex to fall back asleep. Even if his mind threatens to start spiraling over what this is going to mean, how this is going to affect everything— even if nothing really has changed between Alex and Henry, truly—the sound of Henry’s steady breath and, oh, Henry’s soft snoring, is enough to lock his anxiety in the box, ready to be dealt with in the morning. 

Henry is the one to reach over and turn off the alarm at 6am. 

—

It only takes three mornings for Henry to learn how Alex takes his coffee. 

Sure, anyone that has eyes and a nose will pick up on how Alex always prefers dark over medium and light roast. And he never asks Henry to bother with milk whenever he’s asked what he needs from the store. So it shouldn’t be a surprise that Henry knows Alex likes his coffee black. 

But what makes his heart ache and his cheeks to burn with utter yearning for his roommate, is that on that third morning, after Henry turns off Alex’s alarm and gently pushes Alex towards the bathroom so he can wash up while Henry prepares their morning brews—on that third morning, Alex takes a sip of his mug and tastes cinnamon. 

He’s never explained to Henry that he likes his coffee with cinnamon. He doesn’t even keep the cinnamon anywhere near his coffee grounds. It sits perfectly stacked next to all their other herbs and spices on the opposite side of the kitchen. And he’s too far gone on Henry to ever even consider being anything other than grateful that Henry even wants to make him his coffee in the morning. He’s never mentioned his love for the spice. So, for Henry to learn this within those three mornings spent in sleepy silence as they prepare for their days? 

Well, it’s a bit overwhelming. 

It’s perfect timing though, because the day before is when Alex’s package arrives and delightfully surprises Henry. 

That day when he first came home with the Early Grey from Trimana and was given the tidbit of information from Henry about his favorite tea brand, was the same night Alex secretly Googled Taylors of Harrogate and bought the biggest sized package he could find. 

The bulky purchase meant spending a bit longer on being shipped and delivered, which turned out for the better considering Alex could tell Henry completely forgot about their conversation and went red all over when Alex presented the box to Henry as soon as it arrived. Alex seriously can never get enough of making Henry blush. 

So now, on the third morning, Henry gently pushes the mug of coffee with cinnamon into Alex’s hands before picking up his own Earl Grey. His voice is warm and quiet as he asks Alex when he plans on beginning his study regimen for his finals. 

Alex shrugs and takes a sip before replying, “Probably in the next few days.” 

It reminds Alex that yeah, he’s going to have to start his overblown study habits soon, which means he’s not going to have time to watch their show for those few hours before bed. Especially if he wants to get enough sleep. Which, oh—right. Sleep. The thing Henry is not really great at getting. 

“Hey, um,” Alex starts, feeling a bit embarrassed as the nerves in his voice get picked up by the first few words he speaks. He can feel his cheeks warm up as he looks at Henry with a sheepish expression. 

“I’m sorry if I’m like, ruining your sleep schedule. I know you have a hard time falling asleep as is. So, sorry if waking up at 6am is cutting into that even more.” 

Henry immediately shakes his head. 

“No, it’s—it’s alright, Alex.” He casts his eyes down as he stares at the top of his mug. Alex’s breath hitches as the telltale sign of Henry’s own embarrassment creeps up into his own cheeks. “I’ve, erm, actually been getting good sleep recently.”

Oh. 

Alex hesitates to ask, “Do you…How long does it take for you to fall asleep after me?” 

Henry keeps looking down at his tea as he says quietly, “A couple minutes.” 

Alex is so, so far gone on this man. 

His thoughts of kissing Henry right then and there are interrupted by the sound of their electric kettle making its signature noise, signaling the now boiling water is ready to be poured for Alex's second serving. 

Alex lets his eyes trail after Henry as he excuses himself across the kitchen once more. The back of his head has a slight bump of hair from where it pressed against Alex’s pillow an hour before. 

Once Henry finishes securing the lid on Alex’s thermos, he turns around, face back to neutral. Except, his eyes are staring into Alex's with a hint of vulnerability that rattles Alex to the bone. 

Alex smiles as he takes the thermos from him, says “Thank you, Henry.” 

Henry nods and smiles back, eyes squinting as they soften. “Have a nice day, Alex.” 

—

It’s 11pm and Alex is, surprisingly, still awake. 

He would blame it on the late coffee he served himself, but he knows better than that. Coffee does not have the same effect on him as it does everyone else. It’s just a comfort drink at this point in his life. He would be embarrassed if Henry wasn’t just as much of a fiend with his tea. 

So, it’s past his bedtime, he’s still completely awake, and Henry is yawning as he maneuvers the hand wrapped around Alex to click yes to the “Are you still watching?” prompt on the screen. 

It’s only logical for Alex to bring his own hand up to wrap around Henry’s wrist and push it back down.

“Alex?”

“My brain is done processing for the day.”

Henry hums in amusement, “British Bake Off then?”

Alex shakes his head again. “I can’t handle that many Brits all at once right now.” 

A scoff leaves Henry’s mouth but he doesn’t protest.

“I’ll ignore that. What else, then?” Henry’s fingers reach out to caress the small bit of Alex’s forearm they can reach from their still trapped state. Alex’s heart flutters. 

He’s quick to release Henry’s wrist, so he can close his laptop shut. He shuffles awkwardly in Henry’s embrace until he’s sitting completely upright, his upper body twisting to reach over and place the laptop on his desk. It takes him a couple of seconds to stretch his body a bit further from its cemented place so he can reach his charging cord and plug it into the device. 

Once he huffs in success and turns back around with a triumphant smile, he’s met with a doe-eyed Henry, staring up at him from his own cemented spot on his side of the bed (hishishishis—). 

Alex quirks a lip at him and finally situates himself back. Instead of going back to how they were, though, he slides his body a few inches down so he can rest his entire body flat. He adjusts the pillow on his side so its laying flat as well, letting his head fall on top. His hand moves up to rest on the pillow in front of him, pushing it down so he can see Henry above. 

It takes a few seconds for Henry to wordlessly do the same, getting comfortable underneath his own pillow. They’re both facing each other soon after, with a curious look on Henry’s face and a (hopefully) hidden look of adoration on Alex’s. He scoots just a tad bit closer, letting his knee bump into Henry’s hidden underneath the sheets.

This is new territory, now that Alex thinks about it. Other than three nights ago, when he finally plucked up the courage to keep Henry from retreating to his own room, they’ve never really had a moment where they’re both trying to fall asleep at the same time. 

He’s always been the one to fall asleep midway through an episode, having to jog his memory the morning after to remember where exactly in the episode the scenes start to scatter and fade in his brain. It’s always been him nodding off naturally, Henry following after. 

It’s never been like this. With both of them aware of each other and aware that they need to fall asleep. 

It’s also different considering, when Alex actively tries to sleep, his brain takes a while to turn off enough to let it happen. He’ll usually go through the day’s events and anything significant will be stuck in a loop as he tries to play out different scenarios—how he could have worded a sentence better, how he could have pushed a little harder in the gym, how he could have made a different meal for Henry to try, how he could have made Henry smile more.

It’s a lot to go through at the end of each night. And it’s a lot more now, with Henry looking back at him with tired but timid eyes, like he also doesn’t really know where to go from here.

It starts to remind Alex of the other night. The look in Henry’s eyes after his phone call with his brother. He looked closed off, reserved, but also nervous and a little scared. Like as if Alex was going to take one good look at him and suddenly decide he doesn’t want to do this anymore. 

Alex can’t fathom ever letting himself think that. 

And he never wants to see that look on Henry’s face again. He wants to make sure of it. 

It takes him a few seconds, the sound of Henry’s soft breathing overlapping with his, taking up the space in the otherwise quiet room. He watches Henry flick his eyes down to watch as Alex opens his mouth. 

“You don’t have to answer, but—” he starts. He can already see the furrow in Henry’s eyebrows start to form at the careful tone he uses, “What…happened? With your phone call, the other day. With…with Phillip.” 

Henry’s chest rises and falls quickly as he takes in a sharp but quiet breath. 

He continues to stare down at Alex’s lips, the furrows in his eyebrows becoming firm. 

The silence that echoes after Alex asks the question makes his heart stutter. Fear of pushing too far starts to creep in. 

He’s about to retract his question and apologize profusely, when Henry finally blinks and replies, “He asked me how I’ve been.”

Confusion completely wipes away any fear Alex felt. Okay…so. Henry was upset that his brother wanted to catch up? That’s…it?

Flashbacks of Henry’s muffled but angry words as he argued over the phone float through his mind. There’s clearly more. 

Henry is still looking down at Alex’s lips. 

He continues, “He hasn’t called me since my first year at university.”

Oh. Henry started undergrad 8 years ago. Oh. 

He can feel his insides start to burn. From anger, from confusion, from frustration, he really doesn’t know. What he knows is that Henry is here in his bed, refusing to look into Alex’s eyes, lower lip being tugged between his teeth, and it hurts. 

He keeps quiet. His fingers flex against his pillow to stop himself from reaching out. 

Henry starts again.

“We had a…falling out. Before then. I—I decided that I wanted to leave England. To study English Literature, and to do it as far away from there as possible. As far away from my grandmother as possible.” He finally looks up at Alex this time, eyes determined. 

“She disapproved of me being gay. She considered it uncouth and selfish of me to give in to such carnal sin. To bring such shame to the family. And she would not allow me to continue to reside under her roof if I didn’t shove that side of me into a box and hide it. So,” he says coolly, maintaining eye contact like an act of defiance. “I packed my bags and left. The only people I even told that I applied and got into an American university were Bea and Pez. Everyone else found out about it the day I left for the airport. Including Phillip.”

Another pause as Henry takes time to catch his breath. This time, Alex doesn’t hold himself back. 

His hand closes the few inches between them as he places it on top of Henry’s own. He doesn’t hesitate to slide his fingers through Henry’s, giving the hand a tight squeeze of encouragement to continue. 

Henry’s eyes train on their intertwined fingers for a few seconds before looking back up at Alex and recounting his god awful first year at school.

Throughout his first semester, Phillip would not seize to call him two to three times a week, just to berate him for an hour straight about being a coward and not owning up to his mistakes. He would spit out his disappointment in Henry and tell him to just come home and apologize so they could all get past this and move on. 

Needless to say, Henry was absolutely miserable those first few months, in a new country with no family and no friends, with a constant thought running through his head as he would go to class of being a total failure. It had ruined his confidence and it had ruined his otherwise great discipline with school. He fell behind with assignments and readings, he would lose so much sleep over the phone calls and doze off during class. He was too scared to make friends, not knowing how to put on a smile when he was crying for help on the inside. 

It had gotten to the point where he considered dropping out and moving back, to succumb to Phillips insults and submit to a world of never truly being who he wants to be. It took four hours on a joint call with Bea and Pez, one night, for him to be convinced to stay. 

After that, he went no contact with his brother. Blocking his number was the only way he could pick up the pieces of his ruined first semester and build himself back up to pass his classes in the next. 

Every once in a while, Bea would give him short updates about Phillip during their calls. That’s how he learned about the engagement to Martha, about their first son. 

Eventually, at the end of his second year, and after a full year of free counseling from his school’s resource center, he found enough peace within himself to unblock Phillip’s number. He never attempted to reach out once he did that though. Having it unblocked was enough for him to move on. 

And now, after seven years, he finally heard his brother’s voice again.

Henry actually gave himself hope within the first few minutes of being on the phone with him.

But no. 

As quick as Phillip was to ask Henry how he has been and how America has been treating him, Phillip brushes past Henry’s responses and asks Henry to come back home. He explains how his son is five years old now and is asking about his uncle Henry, and how he really wants to introduce Henry to his nephew. When Henry hesitates and tries to explain how he can’t really see himself going back to their childhood home, Phillip is quick to interrupt with a frustrated sigh. 

“I don’t see why you can’t just stick it out for a week to meet your nephew. Honestly, you’ve just got to ignore her comments like Bea and I do.”

“This isn’t—Phillip, I don’t think you understand. I can’t be in the same room as her. I don’t even want to be in the same country as her as long as she’s still alive.” 

A scoff from the other line. “Don’t be bloody ridiculous, Henry.”

That set Henry off. He tells Phillip to stop, not to do this again. Tells him it was hard enough cutting him off all those years ago but he will not hesitate to do it again. Tells him that if he still can’t see why he truly left, then there is no reason to try and rekindle their relationship. He doesn’t let Phillip argue back before cutting the line. 

Henry finishes off his story with a sigh and a sad smile. 

At some point in the middle of Henry speaking, Alex had pulled Henry’s hand closer to him, bringing it to his chest as he rubbed his thumb back and forth on the back of Henry’s palm. It’s what Henry’s been concentrating his eyes on for the remainder of his story. 

“A bit of a mood killer, right?” he tries weakly. 

Alex doesn’t stop the whine of protest from leaving his throat. His head automatically shakes the best it can against the pillow underneath it. He tugs Henry’s hand even closer for a second, before ultimately letting go of all inhibitions. The only thought in his mind as he moves forward and wraps his body around Henry is to make Henry stop hurting. 

His leg swings over Henry’s hip as his hand tangles itself into the back of Henry’s hair and pulls until Henry’s face is hidden in the crook of Alex’s neck. He gives him enough space to breathe and not suffocate, but that ends up in vain as Henry lets out his own soft noise of surprise and buries his nose deep into the crevice of Alex’s body. 

It’s the first time they’ve reversed their positions in bed. It’s the first time Alex is the one to press his lips against the soft strands of hair across the top of Henry’s head. And it’s the first time Henry lets go of his own inhibitions, wetting Alex’s exposed skin with silent tears a few seconds later. 

Alex doesn’t know who falls asleep first this time. Doesn’t catch when Henry’s short and hitched breaths start to calm down into a steady and sleepy rhythm. 

All Alex knows is that he doesn’t need to be in love with Henry to know he deserves the world. Even if he’s doomed to stay just friends with him, if he’s doomed to pine and yearn as Henry heals and grows and moves on to bigger and better things. 

He knows he will do absolutely anything and everything to make sure Henry never has to feel unwanted ever again.

Chapter Text

Finals week and the week leading up to it were a blur.

As usual, Alex is quick to dive headfirst into studying, keeping at least one textbook on him at all times as he maneuvers from his bedroom to the living room, the kitchen, the coffee shop, the campus library, the convenience store, and back into his bedroom.

He’s sort of accepted this as his mortal flaw—this not being able to recognize how to time manage and prioritize and eat and sleep so he has the energy to continue with studying without having to down three shots of espresso, just to feel an ounce of energy bounce back into his body. 

If he’s asked, he’ll honestly say he’ll continue to neglect his health and sanity for the sake of astonishing grades until the day the universe decides it’s his time to croak.

Except. 

On the nights where it turns 1am and he’s still straining his eyes, scanning over his flashcards and notes, hunched over his desk in his bedroom. When his head is threatening to start throbbing in agony over not being given any sort of meaningful break besides going to the bathroom or pouring a new batch of coffee. 

On those nights, there’s no knock on his bedroom door as Henry walks in. 

No words are exchanged as he reaches Alex at his desk and closes his notebook shut. No hint of disappointment in Henry’s eyes as he smiles softly at Alex’s tired face and laces their fingers so he can walk them the short distance to his bed. 

No grumbled words of annoyance as Henry packs Alex’s bag in the morning with all of his study materials, makes his two cups of coffee, wraps a scarf around Alex’s neck to protect it from the winter’s bitter wind, and sends him off to the library. 

Alex comes out of those two weeks with no doubt he passed every single one of his exams. And no doubt that he has Henry to thank for it.

When he arrives home after his last final, he finds Henry in the kitchen, laptop open on the counter with a mess of scribbled outlines on notepads and print-outs of highlighted readings. It’s Wednesday of finals week, and he knows Henry has his last paper due in two days. 

Henry hums when Alex announces his arrival home, keeping his eyes glued to the screen as his fingers hover over the keyboard. He doesn’t flinch as Alex hops up on the counter beside him and steals from the bowl of strawberries set next to Henry’s signature mug of tea. 

“Please don’t tell me you’re attempting to cook again.”

“Excuse you.”

“Hen,” Alex begins, pushing away the thought: Hen, sweetheart, love of my life. “Even with your undivided attention, you couldn’t cook an egg to save your life.”

A light huff leaves Henry as he finally looks up from his laptop and sends a glare to Alex beside him. 

“Okay, well, now you’re just being mean.” 

A snort leaves Alex’s nose as Henry rolls his eyes and picks up the mug beside him. He downs it in one go before bringing it back down and begins to type rapidly. If Alex squints hard enough, he’d be able to see some paragraph on isolation and melancholy present in John Keats’ works, or whatever nuanced take on poetry Henry is trying to finish. 

“Why are you standing in the kitchen, anyway? Did you break the coffee table?”

Henry shakes his head, eyes not leaving his screen once more. 

“I keep getting distracted when I’m in my room or on the couch,” he replies. “And I’m hungry, so standing up while inches away from food is helping me focus so I can finish and eat.” 

Alex is very glad Henry is too immersed in his work to notice the doting expression he has no doubt is plastered on his face. And well, Henry just helped him for the past two weeks to ace all his exams. So. Why not return the favor?

Now, it’s Henry who spends the next two days in a blur, constantly within arms reach of his laptop as he finishes off the last 15 pages. Alex doesn’t have to ask to know when Henry is hungry and in need of lunch or dinner. Doesn’t have to ask to know Henry is 10 minutes away from finishing his tea, so he prepares the next mug in time to take away the empty one from Henry’s warm hands just to replace it with the new one. Doesn’t even have to contemplate when Henry is feeling a bit frustrated over a certain turn of phrase or transition sentence so he turns on the TV and puts on The Great British Bake Off reruns on low volume so he has something to calm the brewing in his mind.

When nightfall comes, and Henry’s blinking starts to slow down and his typing becomes far and few, Alex knows how to gently pry the laptop from Henry’s lap and walk him back to their— his room.

When Friday afternoon hits, and Henry pushes down on the cursor to hit the submit button on his finished draft, Alex is there with a wide grin and open arms to welcome the end of their first semester. 

When he asks him how he wants to celebrate, Alex tries not to think too hard over Henry’s reply.

“Let’s watch something until we pass out with no alarm to wake us up in the morning.”

Tries not to clam up and die over the word and how incredibly different it means to him now. Us. 

—

This time, it really is an accident when Alex eavesdrops on Henry’s conversation with Bea. 

It’s the weekend afternoon and Alex is coming out of his bedroom, phone clutched in hand, ready to rant to his soulmate (roommate) about a TikTok he scrolled upon, detailing the incredibly wrong opinion of European disdain against American travelers. 

He doesn’t realize Henry’s preoccupied until he’s stepping into the living room and sees a familiar looking yet foreign face on Henry’s phone screen. 

Although the woman has ginger hair and green eyes, her mischievous smirk and high cheekbones are enough to confirm that Henry is currently FaceTiming his sister, Bea. 

His sister, who Alex is only catching the tail end of her teasing sentence. 

“—your little school girl crush.” 

And Henry whines back at her, his head tilting up to the sky. “Bea, stop. It’s not—” Alex doesn’t want to hear the rest. 

“Hey,” he interrupts. He doesn’t want to give Henry the chance to explain himself to Bea. He doesn’t want Henry to even mention having a crush on someone else, like one of his students or another TA or just anyone that isn’t him.

Whipping his head to the side with wide eyes set on Alex, Henry is very quick to turn bright red and very quick to let out, “ Alex! Hi! Come meet my sister, Bea!” He turns back towards the screen. “ Bea, this is my roommate, Alex.” 

Henry turns the phone just enough to disappear from the camera, letting Alex overtake the small pixelated box next to Bea’s face. Her eyes widen and her face lights up as she not-so-subtly takes in all of Alex, eyes flicking up and down minutely. It’s a bit scary, seeing eyes that aren’t the same color as Henry’s, and yet so incredibly like Henry’s, staring back at him with a knowing look. 

“Oh, you’re handsome.” 

Alex has never heard Henry whine so much. It’s dangerous, where his mind wants to wander. 

He’s warm in the face as he approaches them on the couch. “Oh, um,” he starts. “You must be Henry’s sister.”

“Indeed I am, Mr. Gorgeous,” Bea replies.

“Bea, please.”

The warmth in Alex’s cheeks decides to be permanent as Henry and Bea begin to bicker back and forth with soft and hurried voices. He keeps himself close enough to let the side of his body appear behind Henry in the camera. It’s all nonsense, what the two siblings quip out at each other, harmless insults and empty threats. It reminds him of June and their endless quarrels over meddling in each other’s lives. It doesn’t take long for Bea to finally give in and roll her eyes at Henry, bidding her goodbyes to them both before disconnecting. 

Henry finally looks back at Alex again, with a look of embarrassment, cheeks refusing to go down in color. 

“Sorry about that.”

“Oh no, don’t worry,” Alex says, a lopsided smile plastered on his lips. “I don’t mind.”

Henry quirks an eyebrow. It’s effective to make Alex backtrack immediately.

“No, like. I don’t mean that in a I don’t mind your sister flirting with me,” he begins again. “Because I mean, yeah, I’m flattered. But like—I don’t see her in that way.” He knows there’s no hope in stopping the words spilling out of his mouth now. “ Not that she’s not beautiful! She’s absolutely gorgeous, if you ask me—” he needs to stop. “But not in a way where I’m attracted to her, Jesus, no. Just like, in general, it seems like the hot genes run in the family—I-I mean, like—just, objectively, um—”

“Alex.”

“Um…yes?”

“You can stop now.”

“Okay, got it.”

Alex can feel his heart pulsing in his ears as he clamps his mouth shut and stares at Henry like a deer in the headlights, body flush with anxiety over everything he’s just managed to let out in one minute. 

Henry stares back at him with both eyebrows raised now, seeming to run his eyes over Alex’s probable anxiety-ridden face. The blush on his cheeks still permeates but it has become more subtle. Out of Alex’s periphery, he can see Henry twiddling with his signet ring with both hands in his lap.

They let the most awkward pause settle between them for a few seconds, before Alex finally decides he can’t take it anymore. 

He sticks his hand out rapidly, extending it towards Henry with an open palm facing up.

Henry’s eyes follow the movement, looking at Alex’s hand before returning his gaze to Alex’s face. 

His brows draw in slightly with a bit of confusion, which just makes Alex shake his hand a bit to emphasize its placement between their two bodies. 

Henry seems to get the memo as he turns his body around just a bit more to extend his own hand, placing it on top. Alex immediately wraps his fingers around Henry’s hand once it settles and pulls softly, though it’s enough to make Henry stand and walk around the couch, finally crowding into Alex’s space. 

“Yes?”

Alex gulps down any last drops of the anxiety that is eating away at his composure and finally takes in a deep breath. He shrugs and smiles back at Henry.

“Let’s go watch Bake Off. ”

Henry lets his face relax into an easy grin as well.

“The TV is, conveniently, right here. I was just sitting down on the couch.” 

Alex rolls his eyes, “You’re actually not allowed to sit on that couch during winter break. It’s got too many memories of cramming for assignments.” 

“Oh?” Henry challenges. “Is this a new addendum to our roommate contract?”

Alex nods and turns, pulling Henry towards his bedroom.

“Yes. Noted and signed this morning. You need to keep up.” 

Once they settle into Alex’s sheets, bundled up in a thick blanket with Henry’s usual position behind Alex as he wraps his arms around him, Alex lets his mind wander to the earlier conversation he didn’t manage to completely overhear.

Henry has a crush on someone. A crush significant enough for him to mention it to his sister and for his sister to promptly tease him about it. And a crush that Henry does not want Alex to know about, from the look of his red cheeks once Alex caught them conversing. 

Listen. It hurts. Knowing that the man he’s fallen in love with—a scary thought but an honest one, nonetheless—is currently pining over someone else. And it also hurts that Henry isn’t at a point where he would feel comfortable talking to Alex about his infatuation, regardless if Alex would absolutely die if Henry shared any romantic thoughts about another man. 

But, well. He’s here. In Henry’s arms, body rising and falling in accordance with Henry's own steady breathing. Right ear warming at each soft chuckle escaping Henry’s lips from behind him. Alex is a man that knows how to appreciate what he has, especially when he knows how quickly it could be taken away from him.

So, he lets the day pass on and lets his heart yearn. It’s the best he can do. 

—

Alex didn’t exactly plan to come out to June and Nora. 

Except, well. It’s June and Nora. 

It goes like this: 

It’s a week into winter break and he’s laying on his bed with his laptop open to their faces on the screen. Henry is in the shower, getting ready for their planned evening excursion to their city’s downtown scene to splurge on street tacos and boba. Alex has left his bedroom door cracked open to let him keep an ear out for Henry’s movement, and has been listening to Nora recount the hilarious story of being splashed by a bus on one of her morning walks. 

“I haven’t even gotten around to washing the fucking jeans because the washer’s broken and the landlord takes fucking ages to call the maintenance man.” 

Alex and June throw back their heads and let out an uncanny pair of identical cackles. Nora grins back at them as they try to contain their laughter. 

Once June is able to catch her breath, a hand fanning her heated face with a smile stuck on her, she sighs out and shakes her head. 

“Anyways, what I really want to know is: Alex, when are you coming back home? I just arrived yesterday and Mom is already complaining about having to wait for you so we can play Family Scrabble again.”

Alex catches his breath as well and turns his attention to his sister. He shrugs his shoulders and feels a wave of nerves wash over him at this new change of subject. He’s actually been meaning to talk to her about that. 

“Oh, I’m actually gonna stay for a bit? Um, yeah probably until the day before Christmas Eve. Just…got some stuff to do.”

Nora opens her mouth. 

“Stuff as in Henry.”

Alex tries not to choke on his spit as he stutters out, “W-what does that mean?”

“It means, we’re curious as to whether this has to do with a certain roommate that you’ve completely ditched us for in the last two months?” Nora asks. 

Alex makes a wounded noise at the accusation. June shushes Nora. “I have not ditched you guys. I haven’t missed a single Skype session since Henry and I started our binge watching.”

“Henry and I, he says.” 

“Nora, I will choke you.” 

June tuts at him for his violent (empty) words. He sheepishly quirks the side of his mouth up as an apology. He’s met with two pairs of eyes staring back at him, waiting. 

He gulps. 

And finally caves. 

“Alright, fine. I guess you could say, I maybe sorta have a huge crush on him.” His cheeks flame as he settles his gaze down onto the keyboard of his laptop and continues. “Listen. He’s like…the embodiment of all things warm and happy in my life. And it’s a treat just being in the same room as him let alone having him as a friend. It’s not my fault I lo—like the man. I like him.” He finally looks back at the screen and is met with knowing smirks. “I like him.” 

“Sure,” they reply dryly in unison. 

“It’s not even—ugh. Can you guys just let me come out to you without bullying me for one second?”

June has an amused expression as she responds, “Alex. Thank you for sharing with the class. But sweetheart. This isn’t news.” 

“Okay shut up. Just because I’ve told you about our movie nights before doesn’t mean you guys have telepathic access to my new homosexual feelings.” 

June shakes her head. 

“No Alex. I mean being into guys is not news.” He scoffs. “C’mon. Do you think we’ve forgotten about Liam?” 

He backtracks and widens his eyes. 

“Woah woah. How do you—I never told you guys about our—wait. What are you referring to?”

This time it’s Nora that fills Alex in. “We’re referring to your very obvious crush on him Senior year. You basically clinged onto him any chance you had during school. But now—you never told us about your what?”  

“Nothing.” He knows he says it too quickly by the way Nora’s eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling and June is looking mildly disgusted. 

She holds up a hand to stop him and Nora from continuing. “I don’t want to know, truly. Just know that you guys were not that good at hiding your attraction towards each other.” 

Alex lets out a pathetic noise at that. It’s not like he wasn’t attracted to Liam all this years ago. There’s no other way to explain the late nights of teenage sexual frustration being dealt with between wandering hands and baited breath. But it never was a thing to worry about and spiral over because he knew Liam was just a really good friend, who he trusted enough to seek pleasure from during those awkward adolescent years. 

None of that ever compared to now. To Henry. To the way Alex’s heart has not learned how to stop stuttering every time Henry walks into the room. To the way he tries very hard not to stare at Henry’s shiny lips when he’s aggressively explaining the significance of international emigration in the gothic horror genre of the 19th century.

“This is different, though,” Alex concludes. “Henry is different.” 

“Seems like you just have an inclination towards the friends to lovers trope.” 

A small frown forms on his face. “Well, he’s not just my friend. He’s my best friend.” 

“He’s your only friend, let’s be real.”

“Hey don’t be jealous I’ve found someone to replace you.”

“Whatever. Let’s get back to the fact you want to suck this guy’s dick.”

Alex lets out a whine with a Nora, please at the same time as June lets out a groan with a bleh gross.  

“Well am I wrong?” Nora laughs out. 

Alex shrinks into himself as best as he can and bites his bottom lip, refusing to make eye contact again as he says, “Well.”

His eyes flick up to his bedroom door, tuning his ears to locate the shower water still running from down the hall. He decides he still has time before any catastrophic incident of Henry eavesdropping his next confession. 

“It’s just. I mean—okay, yeah. I do want to do those things. But it’s not—God I just wanna hold his hand and like, kiss him and keep being the little spoon with him and cook him all of abuela’s recipes because it makes me think of him meeting abuela and meeting the family and I don’t know what to do because every night I feel like I’m so close to just letting it all out. But that’s so scary, not because of the possible rejection but because he might reject me and also decide he doesn’t want to do any of these things anymore and I’ll be alone again and I don’t want to be alone again.” 

Alex finishes with a mixture between a whine and a groan as he flops his head down into the palms of his hands. 

June, with a soft laugh, says, “Alex.” He keeps his head down. She repeats, more firmly, “Alex. Look at me.” 

And he looks up at her—because she’s his big sister and she told him to—to see an adoring smile as she asks. “Do you want to bring him home with you?” 

His head buzzes with her words and his mind is immediately bombarded with images of Henry, in a soft sweater, drinking chocolate abuelita with his dad while they set up their board games on the living room floor. 

“Is that—am I allowed?” He asks. 

He can see Nora rolling her eyes but staying silent as June nods with kind eyes. 

“Of course. You know better than anyone that our family would never turn away someone that means that much to one of us.” Alex’s cheeks heat up at that statement. “Well, of course, it’d have to be something Henry is okay with. Is he not celebrating with his family?” 

Alex shakes his head and feels his heart start to ache again. Henry has been a little quiet the past few days, whenever Alex brings up going home for the holidays, seeing his sister, seeing his parents. He knows neither Bea nor Pez are coming this year since Henry would have been babbling on about it the moment the news would arrive to him. Which is why Alex has been trying to stave off going home until the last minute—he’s even considered just staying here, with Henry. But he knows his roommate would be absolutely appalled by the very idea of Alex ditching his family and would drag Alex to the airport himself if he had to. 

He doesn’t say any of this to June, considering he’s never told them about Henry’s familial problems and never plans on it without Henry’s permission. But he gives June a soft smile and a shrug. It’s enough for June to get the gist. 

She nods her head and continues softly, “Well then. If you can get Henry to say yes, then, by all means. Bring him along.” She pauses for a second. “But Alex. I don’t think it’s really fair for you to go about this without him knowing that it means a lot more to you now than before. Things have changed, Alex. Your feelings have changed. And you need to communicate that with him so he doesn’t have any false assumptions about you or what you are asking from him. You have to let him make an informed decision, even if it turns out to be the opposite of what you want.”

Alex’s heart is racing. He hesitates before asking. 

“Is this still about Christmas?”

June looks at him with an exasperated smile. “You know the answer to that.”

He gulps down the dread in his throat and nods. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he says. “It’s just that I don’t really know how I’ll cope if—”

He’s interrupted by a knock in his door and a wet-haired Henry peeking his head into the room with a bright smile. Oh God. 

Alex doesn’t register how quickly his voice raises in volume as he practically yelps out, “Oh hey! Henry!”

He immediately presses the mute button on his laptop, already seeing Nora’s eyes and mouth widening as she’s about to say something incredibly damning. 

“H-how was your shower?” 

Henry’s smile turns confused, a quizzical brow settling high on his face. 

“Erm, refreshing?”

Alex nods like a maniac and replies, “Oh cool, yeah, that’s…good. Good shower. 10/10.” 

He watches as Henry’s brow raises even farther, eyes searching Alex’s before looking down at the laptop  

“Am I…interrupting something?”

“No, no! I’m just talking to Nora and June.” 

Henry says, “Oh. I thought those were on Saturdays?”

Alex responds, “Yeah, yeah. June just misses me so she asked to call me earlier.” 

He can see June do a double take at her taking the blame suddenly and Nora tilts her head back as a silenced cackle leaves her. He gulps and tries to smile up at Henry again but can imagine it’s not convincing at all , given the look Henry returns. 

He squints at Alex for the next few seconds, like he’s trying to decipher him. He gives up, though, and nods his head awkwardly before heading off to his room. 

Once Alex can hear Henry shuffling through his closet for an outfit, he quickly turns off the mute and lowers the volume down a lot . 

“You guys are not allowed to laugh at me, it’s now considered a hate crime.” 

“Alex, you have some of the worst game on the planet.”

“A hate crime, Nora. You are a hate criminal.” 

“Okay okay, you too. Stop,” sighs June, a grin having made its way to her face as well. “As much second hand embarrassment I experienced from those 30 seconds alone, I still stand by what I said. Tell him , Alex.” 

He doesn’t even try to defend himself as he nods at her. 

“Okay, I will. I just…give me some time. I think if I say it tonight I will actually throw up on him. I need to do at least 3 hours of mindful meditation and take a shot of Pepto Bismol or something before even considering telling Henry.” 

He ignores as Nora mumbles loser to herself and takes a breath at June’s encouraging smile. 

“Take your time, Alex. I’m always here for you. And so is Nora.”

He rolls his eyes as he watches Nora shake her head jokingly and says his goodbyes before closing his laptop shut. 

It’s easy to fall back into the comfortable rhythm between him and Henry, despite that awkward moment minutes before. 

He hipchecks Henry as he’s locking the apartment door when they’re leaving, causing him to miss the keyhole and curse. Alex consequently almost falls into the bush as Henry shoves him back in retaliation. They walk their way downtown with a skip in their steps, stomachs empty and hearts full (at least Alex’s is, he can only entertain the fantasy that Henry is feeling the same way). 

It only takes one look at Henry stumbling his broken Spanish at the food truck cashier with a blush on his cheeks for Alex to know this: 

Henry could rip his heart out, stomp on it, and throw it in the ocean once Alex confesses. It still wouldn’t make it stop beating for Henry. 

—

He ends up telling Henry a couple nights later. 

An unconscious Henry, that is. 

You can’t blame him, really. It’s hard not to look at Henry’s sleeping figure and not immediately wax poetic at his soft eyelashes and pouty lips. 

It’s all a swell of emotions, having Henry be the one to fall asleep first. 

It’s not like they were up all night or doing anything exhaustive the day before. 

They’ve fallen into a routine of waking up late in the morning, stumbling out of bed to start their brews and breakfast. At some point in the day, Alex either goes for a run or to the gym and Henry stays home, revising his second round of his thesis draft while tidying up their shared space. Once Alex is home and showered they decide if they want to eat at home or dine out, depending on what they’re craving and how much they want to spend. Then, like always, they find themselves crawling back into Alex’s bed, warm bodies intertwined. 

Tonight, they are on the last season (“it’s called a series you American cretin”) of Bake Off.

Alex doesn’t want to admit that it’s become a favorite show for him as well. He knows the glint in Henry’s eyes when he puts it on means he doesn’t have to say anything anyways. 

Halfway through the semifinal episode, Henry starts getting a little antsy behind him. His arms, that are wrapped around Alex, start to squeeze and unsqueeze, followed by a quick rub of Henry’s hands up and down Alex’s clothed stomach. His legs begin twitching a bit, and a knee clangs with Alex’s as he tries to bend it and change its position. It’s the swish of Henry’s hair against the propped pillow from his head moving side to side, that makes Alex finally turn his head around and look up at Henry. 

“Are you uncomfortable or something? You just have to ask me to move. It’s no big deal.” It is a big deal. But Alex would rather be cold on the other side of the bed if it meant making Henry comfortable around him. 

He’s answered with a head shake and a guilty expression on Henry. 

“No, sorry. I’ll stop.” 

Alex furrows his eyebrows. 

“No, Hen—I don’t mind. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I can lay on my side instead,” he says as he starts to shift around himself, going to grab his extra pillow from the side so he has something soft to lay on as well. 

Henry stops him with a hand wrapped around his forearm, “No no no. It's not that. I’m just…sort of…sleepy?” He finally admits. He crinkles his nose. “I’m trying not to nod off and drool on your shoulder, to be quite frank.” 

Oh. 

“Oh.” Alex repeats out loud. “Henry, I’ve fallen asleep on you every single night since we started—” this. Whatever this is. “I think it’s fair enough for you to do the same every once in a while.” 

There’s still a look of doubt on Henry’s face, though, so Alex makes the decision for them. 

A soft whine of protest leaves Henry when Alex begins shifting away from Henry’s arms but Alex rolls his eyes and shushes him. Once he’s managed to wriggle out, there’s no pause as he turns onto his side, wraps an arm around Henry, and quite literally smothers him into his chest. Another whine leaves Henry, this time most likely in protest of having his face smushed into fabric. 

“I still wanna watch Bake Off,” Henry mumbles out against Alex. 

“Needy baby,” Alex scoffs out with a smile as he releases Henry enough to let him turn his head out towards the laptop in their laps. 

It doesn’t take long for Henry to do as he said; he starts nodding off into Alex’s chest by the end of the episode. 

There’s a flutter in his stomach and an aching heart beating in his ribcage as he quietly turns off the laptop and pushes it to the side. He ever so carefully repositions himself so his head is a bit farther back, now able to see Henry’s face as it falls gracefully onto the pillow. 

In those next few minutes, as Alex watches Henry fall into a deeper sleep, he makes an important list. 

1. Henry is so irrevocably, insufferably beautiful.
2. Any future nights where Alex is not bundled up in bed with Henry in his arms (or vise versa) will be absolutely, undoubtedly ruined. 
3. He is so incredibly, achingly in love with Henry. 

There’s a funny feeling in his chest as he lists off the last one. Funny because it’s no longer scary . It’s as normal as breathing, really.

So as he stares at the tender crease in Henry’s eyebrows at whatever is happening in his dream, and as he listens to the deep, steady breathing through his round nose, it’s not surprising that Alex’s mouth opens and whispers, “I love you.” 

He allows the words to permeate the still air between them. 

He lifts a hand, his pinky tracing a ghost-like pattern on the side of Henry’s head, slightly disturbing the blond locks along his temple line. 

The second time he says it, it’s a bit louder, a bit firmer, but just as easy. 

“I love you, Henry.” 

There’s a small disturbance in Alex’s heart rhythm when Henry crinkles his nose and buries his face a little further into the pillow underneath him, but he remains still once more and Alex relaxes. 

Closing his own eyes, he lets his mind calm with thoughts of waking up to Henry staring back at him, of leaning in and kissing the mole on top of his lip as his mouth whispers good morning. It’s the quickest he’s fallen asleep. 

Soon. He’ll tell him soon. 

—

“Give me five minutes, please.”

“I’ll give you two minutes before I leave your ass behind. Move it, Wales.”

“I regret giving you that bit of information.”

Alex rolls his eyes as he leans his shoulder against the hallway wall, waiting for Henry to leave his bedroom. 

They’re on their way to get drinks at the Trimana cafe before heading down to their local theatre to watch a rerelease of Pride and Prejudice. Henry insists Alex has to see the 2005 film at least once, so that he can take them home and show him the superior version of the BBC series afterwards. Alex goes along with the plan because, well, he is a bit curious. 

Just the other day, he found Henry’s book underneath the couch as he was sweeping the floors (Alex genuinely is astounded by the constant change in location that book ends up residing in) and opened it up to the bookmark’s new placement. Hearts drawn in red pen ink fluttered around the underlined sentence:

I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.

He was scared out of his mind when he heard Henry’s quick footsteps into the living room a few seconds later. And if Henry’s red cheeks at catching Alex with his book open in his hand was any indication of how personal Henry truly finds his connection with this book, then. Yeah. Alex wants to see what the whole fuss is about.

But here’s the thing.

It’s currently three days before Christmas and he still hasn’t said a word. 

His mom has already called him twice, demanding an ETA on his return home. There’s only so much Christmas shopping he can use as an excuse to delay his trip any further. So, it’s really now or never. Even if he wants to vomit at the thought of Henry saying no and leaving him to die (grovel) during the happiest days of the entire year. 

He’s doing it tonight. Whether he’s prepared for it or not. 

His thoughts are interrupted as Henry finally opens his door and walks out, sporting a thick white cardigan with a beanie in one hand as he uses the other to tussle his hair around. 

“Okay, how do I look?” Henry asks.

Alex successively pushes down a pathetic noise and replies, “Like someone who will make us late to the movie he oh so desperately wants to see.”

Henry rolls his eyes but stays standing in front of his door as he adjusts the beanie onto his head. Alex follows the movement of his hands.

“I’ve seen it enough times,” Henry sighs. “I just really want that tea now. I’ve been trying to preserve the final bits of Earl Grey that are left in the kitchen. Please remind me to go hunting for some more soon.”

This makes Alex raise his eyebrows and shift in his stance as he’s reminded of earlier that week.

“Oh don’t worry about it. I noticed you were almost finished so I went ahead and ordered a new package,” Alex says with a shrug. His eyes light up as he adds, “Actually! I just remembered. I was in the middle of reordering the bulk size when I saw this other brand right below it. Rishi’s , I think? I ordered a few sample sizes to try out. It has great reviews.”

He’s met with big, round eyes. Henry remains silent on the other side of the hallway. 

“Sorry,” Alex furrows his eyebrows. “Is that—have you had it before? Do you not like it?” There’s no change in Henry’s blank expression. Alex can’t read his face at all. He starts to panic.

“Okay, I need you to tell me if I just happened to buy your most hated tea brand, or something. I can totally ask for a refund and ship it back if you don’t even want it in the house. I get it. I once threw out a whole bag of San Francisco Bay Coffee just because a fly flew into my mug mid-chug. It actually traumatized me for a couple weeks after that and I couldn’t even look at—”

Alex’s mind goes blank as Henry abruptly strides the gap between them, leans in and kisses him.

Chapter Text

Henry has come to learn who Alex Claremont-Diaz is through their shared apartment.

He knows how he likes his coffee: as dark as they come, with only a teaspoon of cinnamon or else it overpowers the bitterness of the brew. He knows how neat and organized he is: keeping all his belongings in their designated spots in every corner of the house, never letting a dish go unwashed or a counter go unwiped if he can help it. He knows that he likes to push himself to the absolute limit: coming home from the gym with the effects already settling into his sore legs, sighs and groans escaping his mouth as he tries to subtly move around in Henry’s arms on the worst nights. He knows that he holds himself to the highest of standards: neglects eating and sleeping so he can finish his assignments with absolute perfection, refusing to be anything but perfect and enough. 

He knows Alex. 

So of course, he knows when Alex begins to see him in a different light. 

It’s all in his eyes. 

The shy gaze Alex gives him when he wants to touch someone becomes a shy gaze when he wants to touch Henry. He knows Alex tries really hard to keep his eyes focused on Henry’s own when he’s going off on a tangent, yet still manages to betray himself to let his eyes trail off to Henry’s lips. He can feel the heat of Alex’s eyes remaining on his retreating figure when he turns to leave the room for more tea or for a bathroom break. 

He knows Alex. 

And well, he loves him. 

Henry can’t tell you when exactly this realization settled into his mind. 

But what he can say is that it seemed rather obvious. 

Inevitable. 

Inescapable (not that Henry would ever attempt to deny or avoid these feelings). 

One minute, Henry is laughing along to his handsome roommate exclaiming about the absurdity of the two party system, and lobbying, and other government things Henry never really cared for before. The next, Henry is thinking of shutting up Alex’s anxiety-induced law spiels by occupying his mouth with his own. 

If he truly tries to think about when his feelings transformed, he would tell you it was before he noticed Alex’s quiet reciprocation. Perhaps within the first few weeks of their whole ordeal. 

It could have been in those first few days, when he saw a hint of a blush on Alex’s brown skin when Henry would offer his arms before Alex could ask. It could have been one of the following nights, when Alex became so comfortable with Henry’s body next to his that he practically flung himself onto Henry with a melodic laugh. Hell, it could have been the first night, when Alex tucked his chin into Henry’s shoulder as they embraced in the hallway, the remnants of Alex’s lips burning into his clothed skin as he tried to go to sleep afterward. 

All that is certain in this world, is that he wants to kiss Alex every waking moment of the day, and wants to scream into his pillow at the idea of Alex feeling the same way. 

Henry knows Alex can be an impulsive being. 

He’s been the recipient of many word vomits that seem to come suddenly and without preamble, leaving Alex a frantic mess as he realizes in real time what he’s doing and yet can not seem to shut his mouth. He’s seen him burn his hand countless times when making dinner because even though he has these recipes perfected, and Alex knows Henry would never be a harsh critic, he can’t help but always doubt his skills and move too quickly and too sporadically around the kitchen. He can’t count the many mornings Alex has sunk against Henry’s body and prevented Henry from moving when his alarm wakes them up, only to push himself off the bed as his head clears and he realizes how tightly he’s been clinging onto Henry. 

The point is: it’s hard for Alex to contain his urges, to think things through before acting out on them. So to know that Alex hasn’t accidentally kissed him or confessed his feelings yet, tells Henry that he’s trying really hard to prevent it. 

It’s pretty endearing, if he thinks about it. 

Makes him blush at the thought of Alex caring so much about his friendship with Henry that he’s able to stop himself from slipping. 

And he’s not offended at all. Truly. 

Henry has had plenty of experience hiding feelings and sneaking glances at other boys he would never be able to touch and kiss and love back home. He understands how terrifying it is to know that your love—your unrelinquishing, gravity-defying, blinding love—can cause such visceral and hateful reactions from people in this world. People who don’t matter, like bigots who can’t fathom co-existing with people who don’t quite fit their norms. But also, people who do matter, like a sibling or a friend; people who you think the world of, who might obliterate your heart if they don’t respond well to its desires. 

He’s lived it. He’s ran from it. He understands how Alex might be feeling. 

So Henry is patient with Alex. 

He tries to let him set the pace, of whatever this is. Whatever they have between them. Lets him decide if he wants to reach out and touch and feel and breathe each other in. Lets him figure out for himself that he can take and take and take, and Henry will always give and give and give. 

It’s only when he can truly see Alex’s head begin to overwork itself from his thoughts and his fears and his wanting, that Henry decides to take the lead every once in a while. Besides then, he simply encourages Alex along as he figures out what he’s brave enough to do, and tries not to push for more.

But, Christ, does Alex make it hard for Henry. 

He wants to cry sometimes, over how loved Alex makes him feel, even as just a friend. The way he memorizes every single detail Henry offers on his interests and preferences, taking note of his favorite dishes and accommodating them to Henry’s palette. Before that particular night, where Alex held Henry’s hand and listened to Henry’s soft words as he explained his turbulent relationship with Phillip—before then, Alex would still always be so kind to Henry and never push if Henry began to close up on the topic of his brother. 

Alex dotes on him, cares for him, treats him like something precious and rare, deserving of far more than Henry would ever allow himself to ask for. 

He’s never felt so seen by someone, so cherished. Alex is a fierce being, with an even fiercer approach to loving. And it takes so much in Henry to not scream at the top of his lungs how much he loves him back. How he can’t even imagine living up to that fierceness, to be able to make Alex feel as loved and appreciated as he makes Henry feel. But he’ll crawl to the ends of the Earth until his palms and knees are bloodied and bruised just to get an inch close enough to do so.  

All of this is what pushes Henry to walk those few steps in the hallway. To surrender to all his yearning and adoration for his roommate, who pays attention to him and provides for him, without ever expecting anything in return. 

He hopes Alex can forgive him for making the first move this time. He just couldn’t keep it in anymore. 

(He won’t tell Bea what pushed him to the edge of this silly little school girl crush and finally kiss Alex…was tea. He would never hear the end of it.)

It shouldn’t be surprising that Alex’s lips are soft and warm against his. Every fiber of Alex’s being seems to be. 

Henry makes sure to keep his love surge to a minimum as it translates into his kiss. 

Firm but simple. 

His lips stay still, mimicking the stillness of Alex’s. But they’re parted, like Alex’s, who was able to take in a small gasp of air before Henry closed the distance. A hint of a twitch runs across Henry’s lips as he’s able to taste the morning’s coffee. 

He’s brought a hand up steady against the base of Alex’s nape, fingers itching to snake into the bottom curls but determinedly keeping stagnant. 

The kiss doesn’t last for long, only a few seconds. When Henry opens his previously closed eyes and pulls his head back, he sees Alex’s eyes are still open, wide. 

Any normal person who kisses their roommate for the first time and isn’t kissed back—and sees they kept their eyes open for the short duration—would undoubtedly panic.

And yet, as Henry steps back enough to give Alex some space and sees Alex’s eyes follow Henry’s tongue as it gently peeks out to moisten his bottom lip, chasing the already fading taste of coffee and cinnamon and Alex—he just can’t help but smile. 

With his hand still resting on the back of Alex’s neck, Henry watches Alex open and close his mouth, fingers curled into fists by his sides as he tries to ground himself. The invisible gears in his head seem to be going into overdrive, and Henry almost feels a bit bad for effectively breaking Alex. Except, well. The ghost of Alex’s lips against his selfishly keeps him from feeling any regret.

“What was that?” Alex finally asks, short and blatant.

Henry tries not to snort at the confused tone. 

“I believe the term is called kissing,” he replies lightly. “I would hope you’re well versed in it.” 

Alex doesn’t react to the teasing tone, eyes steady on Henry with a dumbfound voice, “You put your mouth on mine.” 

“Yes, that’s generally what kissing entails.” 

“Okay, but—you did it on purpose.” 

Warmth fills Henry’s neck and cheeks as he begins to blush at Alex’s persistent words. There’s an intensity in Alex’s gaze, like he’s daring Henry to even try and break contact, while searching and searching for an answer that Henry is more than willing to give. Henry’s smile refuses to go down as he feels his cheeks burning. 

“Yes, I did,” he offers softly. “I kissed you on purpose.” 

It’s this that breaks Alex. 

Within seconds, his eyes squeeze shut and his mouth shuts into a frown, a fragment of a whimper not properly swallowed down echoes between them. His fists loosen enough to reach out and grab desperately at Henry’s cardigan before curling into fists again and hauling Henry into a tight embrace. He tucks his chin into Henry’s shoulder, the warm exhale through his nose creating goosebumps across the small amount of skin not covered by Henry’s clothing.

They stay there, in each other’s arms, in the middle of their hallway, the notion of something changing settling into the air. 

Alex is the first to speak up after a minute. It’s quiet, yet deafening to Henry’s ears.

“Why did you do that?” he lets out. It’s vulnerable, the way he asks. And a bit exasperated. 

Henry’s heart breaks a little but pushes through.

He’ll make one last final jump, and pray he isn’t on a cliff. 

He breathes into the air, “Because I love you.” 

A sharp inhale into his shoulder is his only indication of being heard. There’s a jump in his heart, or maybe Alex’s, he’s not sure whose, with their chests pressed against each other, rising and falling in sync. 

His mind begins to betray him for every second that passes with no reply. 

It’s cruel, flashing the image of Alex pulling away with a look of pity and rejection. If he has read this all wrong—every soft touch and lingering glance, every hitched breath and nervous gulp—and has done something that he’ll never be able to take back, to fix, to brush aside and move on. If he’s now completely ruined this priceless friendship with Alex with this impulsive decision…

When Henry shifts, a millimeter of movement indicating retreatment from Alex’s arms, he’s stopped. 

Stopped by Alex’s hands gripping even further around his cardigan and pulling, pulling, pulling until it’s impossible to get any closer to each other’s bodies.

Henry releases the breath he didn’t realize he was holding in. He allows his head to tilt down and rest on top of Alex, the silence no longer terrifying. 

He thinks he understands now. Tries not to be so juvenile as to take pride in putting Alex at a loss for words. He knows Alex’s brain is currently running a mile a minute, scaling through a mental timeline to figure out how in the world they’ve ended up here (again, Henry will deny deny deny that it was the tea.) 

Finally, lips still pressed against Henry’s shoulder, Alex’s voice comes out muffled, “You’re awful.”

Henry hums and begins to move his hand up and down Alex’s back. “Why am I awful, love?” 

A whine escapes Alex at the term of endearment. It makes Henry feel warm all over. He shifts his head upward so his lips trail up to Henry’s neck, eliciting a shudder from Henry’s core. 

Alex grumbles into his skin, “I was supposed to tell you I love you first.” 

It takes a lot of energy for Henry to not burst into tears. 

Alex says it so easily, so effortlessly, so simply. Something that Henry has been aching to hear fall from Alex’s lips for weeks, is being said because Alex is (endearingly) annoyed that Henry beat him to it. 

“I would apologize but,” Henry begins, a small voice crack slipping through before he clears his throat. His eyes close as he finishes, “I don’t think I will ever apologize for being so unequivocally in love with you, Alex.”

Another whimper leaves Alex’s lips and Henry almost responds with his own. Instead, he sighs and stops his hand’s movement along Alex’s broad back. 

“Can I look at you, Alex?” he asks.

Alex responds by ever so slightly leaning back, just enough to lock eyes with Henry again, but still attempting to keep his body plush against Henry’s. This need to keep touching makes Henry’s heart ache again. And his eyes begin to swell with so much emotion as he stares back at a mirror image, Alex’s angelic eyelashes beginning to dampen as he blinks away his own building pool. 

Henry lets out a wet sigh. 

“Can I kiss you again?”

Alex is unabashed as his eyebrows curve into desperation, whispering, “Please.” 

Their second kiss is—

Well, it’s perfect. 

And intense. 

The taste of coffee and cinnamon returns, stronger than before, as Henry interlocks his lips with Alex’s. Flashes of past mornings with sleepy eyes stealing glances at each other from above their respective mugs makes Henry’s lips push and pull more frantically. His tongue slips in through an opening and feels more than hears Alex’s gasp as their tongues graze. His hand finds its place back onto Alex’s neck, his thumb softly pressing against the pulsing vein underneath it. Alex’s hands are still clenched, but pressing into Henry’s sides and squeezing every time his tongue runs along Henry’s teeth. A small groan escapes Henry when Alex bites into Henry’s bottom lip, plump and begging for more. 

They kiss and they kiss, letting the calm of their apartment be filled with soft, wet noises and nose exhales. 

A small lull in their respective movements creeps in a few minutes later. The pull of lips into teeth turns into quick nips, and harsh tongues become pliant and warm against each other. 

Henry concludes it’s because of the sudden wave of exhaustion that overwhelms his body. Emotional exhaustion, specifically. His brain and body were not prepared for today to be the day everything completely changes between Henry and Alex. And from the way Alex lets out a long winded sigh as he breaks apart from Henry to wipe at a tear on his cheek, he can say Alex is being hit with the exact same exhaustion. 

Henry tries not to swoon at how much of a mess Alex looks right now. He can’t imagine what he himself looks like. He has an idea, though, from the way Alex’s lips twitch to fight off a smirk as his eyes dart across Henry’s figure. 

He gives in at the same time Henry does, both bursting into small giggles at the absurdity of today. And they keep giggling as Henry brings his lips back to Alex, consuming his laughs like an antidote. 

He doesn’t stay there, though. He presses one more short kiss before breaking away to trail the next few down Alex’s cheeks and into the start of his jawline. Another soft laugh leaves Alex as he jerks away softly, Henry apparently finding a ticklish spot along his jaw. A smile sneaks its way onto Henry as he brings his other hand up to keep Alex’s head steady, trapping him in his cage of love. He’s permitted another minute of kisses before Alex laughs again and tries to jerk away again.

“Henry.”

Henry hums, scraping his bottom teeth against brown skin before kissing it better. It elicits a soft oh from the other, in a tone Henry is now aching to hear over and over and over—

“Henry, I think we’re gonna miss the movie.”

“Screw the bloody movie, Alex.”

A few more kisses pressed into Alex’s temple.

“...But, Henry—your tea.”

“I guess I’ll just have to settle for the sweet taste of your lips.”

“Oh my God, you’re such an English Lit nerdmmmph—” Henry has now found his favorite way to shut Alex up. 

Chapter Text

Alex feels like he’s on a different planet when he wakes up the next morning to a 7 am alarm and the lips of his boyfriend murmuring good morning into his own. He feels like he’s died and gone to heaven when he tightens his arms around Henry’s figure and brings him back into a firm kiss after he blinks his eyes open and sees a shy look on Henry’s face. He feels like crying when Henry mumbles something about morning breath and then whines into a second, sloppier kiss after Alex replies with an I don’t care, baby. 

They start their morning with touching, kissing, and some more touching (and more kissing). It takes a lot of energy for Alex to pull away from Henry and move them along to the airport so they don’t miss the flight to Alex’s mom’s house. 

Alex had called his mom the night before, after he and Henry finally calmed down from the emotional rollercoaster of professing their love for their roommate. Henry laughs into his cheek when Alex declares it to be called the Hallway Incident 2.0 and pushes him along to his room so he can talk to his mom while Henry waits in the living room.

When Alex Facetimes and asks her if he can bring his roommate over for the holidays, she’s quick to smile and nod along. 

“Okay, sugar. No worries. The more the merrier. Just let me know if your boyfriend has any allergies.”

Alex almost chokes on his own spit as he inhales sharply and widens his eyes. He hasn’t even had the b-word discussion with Henry yet, and his mom is already clocking how insanely in love he is with this man. He stutters out, “O-okay, sure yeah. Bye, love you. See you tomorrow.” 

Once they hang up, Alex wastes no time to open his messages and bombard his sister’s phone.

JUNE

JUNE

did you tell mom henry is my BF????

BEFORE I EVEN TOLD YOU????

WHEN DID YOU TELL HER THIS???

His messages are immediately read, and June replies.

Oh yeah

Hahahhaah 

I told her and Leo like two days ago after they kept asking me if I knew why you were taking so long to come home

So I told them you were trying to convince your boyfriend to come home w you

Is he coming?

He scoffs and furiously sends back his own questions.

yes

BUT THATS NOT THE POINT

how did you tell them without knowing i’d even get the courage to ask him out??

and that he would say yes?????

I figured if you were that oblivious about your gay feelings towards a boy you hooked up with in high school, you’re probs oblivious to the feelings of your roommate who cuddles you every night and lets you feed him our family recipes

And I know you Alex, you might be riddled with anxiety 24/7 but you’re brave and you push past your fears

….okay valid

Christmas looks good on Henry. 

He’s in a soft and thick white sweater, a mug constantly in his hand, and has a steady warmth in his tinted cheeks as he smiles abashedly at every compliment given to him by Alex’s family as they get to know him. They’re all so lovely and welcoming towards Henry and Alex genuinely has to force himself to keep his hands and lips to himself whenever Henry looks over at him and smiles that pretty smile of his. 

More importantly, there’s something weird and new that erupts in his chest whenever he walks into a room and sees Henry already occupying it with someone else. 

When he sees Henry raving about Oscar Wilde to an equally enthusiastic June, or Henry nodding along firmly to his mom’s perspective on international relations between the US and the UK, or Henry shaking his head with a big laugh as Leo teasingly declares Salah a better football player than Rodri, or even when his dad arrives late to visit and Henry is quick to diffuse the irritable tension between Alex’s parents by carrying his bags to his guest room and asking him about his flight. 

When he sees Henry easily conversing with his family like they’ve known each other for years, like this is a normal Christmas between the Claremont-Diaz family and his boyfriend—Alex truly feels like his heart is going to burst into a million pieces from how much love it carries for Henry. 

He can’t even find it within himself to complain about his family’s meddling when they always find a way to get him and Henry underneath a mistletoe throughout the duration of their stay. All he can manage is a roll of his eyes as they snicker from around the corner, mind completely occupied when seeing Henry’s cheeks burn red when he looks up at the plant and then back down to Alex’s lips. All he can care to think about is the soft giggle leaving Henry’s lips before he closes the distance.

On their last night in Texas, he finds himself lying with his head on Henry’s lap on the back porch sofa, looking out into the night sky as Henry runs a hand through Alex’s curls. When Henry moves his hand just right, and his pinky ring manages to reflect the bright moonlight onto the floor beneath them, Alex doesn’t think as he reaches a hand up to catch Henry’s, running a finger across the ring. 

“This is your dad’s, right?”

Henry hums and looks down at Alex. 

“Yeah. It was.” 

Alex can feel his next breath get caught in his throat at the somber tone in Henry’s voice. He’s been told about Henry’s father before. His death and the toll it took on their family, some more than others. How Henry has essentially lost both parents instead of one. It was a night filled with Alex’s hands soothingly rubbing Henry’s back as Henry quietly cried into Alex’s arms. Even then, days before Henry finally kissed him and Alex finally verbalized his love for Henry, Alex knew how meaningful it was for Henry to trust him with this information, to let his roommate comfort him in his arms as he grieved over his father. 

Now, Alex wants to show Henry how much he wants to know all about his boyfriend, including his family.

He turns his body around so that his back is pressed against the cushions and his head is looking up at Henry’s. He catches his eyes and smiles up at him, receiving a warm smile back. The hand that isn’t already occupied with Henry’s comes up to twist the ring around Henry’s finger. 

“Tell me about him. Please.” 

Henry’s left eyebrow tilts into a question.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” Alex replies.

Henry’s bottom lip gives in to a small quiver. 

“Okay,” he says.

Alex continues to absentmindedly play with the ring as Henry tells Alex everything he knew about his father, everything he wondered about, everything he’s questioned, everything he wanted to know. 

In the end, Alex’s eyes well up with tears, a single drop escaping and running into his ear when Henry looks down at him with equally welled up eyes and says, “I wish he could have met you.” Henry’s hand squeezes around Alex’s. “My wonderful boyfriend who takes care of me so well.” 

Alex raises Henry’s hand up to his mouth and kisses his ring before he whispers back, “I wish I could have met him too. And tell him how much his son means to me. How loved he makes me feel, despite my flaws. Sees all the good in me when sometimes I can only focus on the bad.” 

Henry lets out a soft cry before pulling Alex up into a sitting position next to him, burying his head into Alex’s neck as he murmurs IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou in between kisses. 

If Alex squints into the night sky above, he’d see Orion shining his stars down on them.

-

Sometime in February, Nora comes to visit Alex and Henry. 

Chaos ensues.

“Woah woah woah, hang on a minute. What’s this about a bloke you’ve experimented on?” 

Henry is stopping Nora from continuing on about Alex’s ghosting her during their Senior year to pine over his teammate, Liam. They’re in the living room, many drinks into the night, laughing over childhood memories between the two best friends. 

Henry, sitting on the couch with Nora beside him, teasingly glares at Alex across the room as Alex whines from his sprawl on the carpet floor. 

“It was too embarrassing for me to mention. I don’t wanna talk about it,” Alex pleads. A hiccup escapes his mouth a second later.

Nora rolls her eyes and takes a sip from her beer bottle. 

“Oh we’re so talking about it,” she says before turning to Henry. “By the way, Henry. Did you know Alex thought he was straight this entire time before you?”

Henry nods easily, “Yes it was fairly obvious.”

Alex scoffs from across and sits up just enough to glare back at Henry.

“Um, hello? Stereotyping much?” 

Henry rolls his eyes and takes a swig from his own bottle before giving Alex a deadpan look.

“Darling, the first time you texted me about rooming together, and I apologized for not responding quickly, you replied with it’s all chillax bro. How straighter can you possibly get?” 

Nora cackles from beside him as Alex huffs and slumps onto his back again, closing his eyes.

“Okay,” he mumbles. “Valid.”

Alex can hear more than see Nora continue to laugh and pull a giggle out of Henry from beside her as they continue to gossip about Alex as if he’s not in the room with them. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know they’re both grinning ear to ear as they bully him relentlessly. And he continues to keep his eyes closed as their contagious laughter brings a smile to his face as well. 

He’s hit with that strange feeling again—the feeling he had back home in Texas when witnessing Henry getting along with his family. Except. It kind of feels intensified 100 times over this time. 

Because, well. Look. 

Yes, it feels so fucking amazing to see the man you love get along so well with your family. 

But with Nora…

These are two people in Alex’s life who met him, figured out who he is…and chose to love him afterward. They aren’t stuck with him like his family is, forever connected by blood no matter where his life takes him. They have the choice if they don’t want to deal with Alex anymore at any given moment, and aren’t obligated to stick by him when things get rough, when he gets in his bad states. They choose to love Alex, every day, on purpose. 

And God, if that doesn’t make Alex feel like the luckiest man in the world—

Henry’s laughter cuts through Alex’s thoughts as Nora finishes telling him about Liam, and transitions into an embarrassing story about Alex and his lacrosse tryouts.  

Alex keeps his eyes closed and fails to warp his smile into a pretend-frown as the sound of laughter embeds itself into his mind. “You guys are the worst.” 

-

Henry is having a shitty day. 

His meeting with his thesis advisor could not have gone more awry earlier that morning, with shitty advice and a shitty response to his confusion over the (in his opinion) trivial topics his advisor was held up on. To make matters worse, one of his elective students was caught plagiarizing on their last essay, which led to an extensive disciplinary review today between the professor, Henry, and the student, who begged for and was ultimately granted a second chance. 

Alex is cooking in the kitchen when Henry finally comes home after texting his grievances to Alex throughout the day. Their schedules have changed enough this semester so that Alex can be the one to greet his boyfriend with dinner and a soft kiss a few days a week. 

Henry wastes no time in seeking comfort from Alex, the sound of socked feet padding towards him seconds after Alex hears the front door open and close, until he feels two arms sneak around his waist from behind and a soft ruffle of hair nudging up against his cheek as Henry buries his face into Alex’s shoulder. 

“Hi baby,” Alex says with a smile, turning the stove fire down to simmer the pasta he’s cooking. His head tilts enough to bump against Henry’s. “Sorry about your shitty day today.”

Henry hums and leaves a kiss on Alex’s shoulder, murmuring something unintelligible into the shirt he’s burying his nose into. Alex laughs quietly and bumps Henry’s head with his own again. 

“I have no idea what you just said.” 

A grunt leaves Henry as he raises his head enough to detach his lips and repeat, “I said I just want to hold you until my brain turns off for the night.” 

Alex is the one to hum now, nodding his head in agreement. 

“Okay, sweetheart,” he starts. “Let me just finish making dinner and we can head into my room, alright?” 

Henry nods. 

A buzzing is heard immediately afterward, and Henry groans as he plops his head back down onto Alex. 

“I don’t even want to look at my phone right now. My Gothic Literature students are bombarding me with emails about their assignment that’s due tomorrow. As if I was indisposed the last 2 weeks they’ve had to write the bloody thing.” 

Alex shakes his head and tuts, finally turning off the stove completely and reaching for the two empty bowls he’s prepared on the counter. “Lazy students,” he comments, as he serves the pasta into the two bowls. He hears another buzz and another groan leave Henry’s mouth before he rolls his eyes affectionately and continues, “How about you leave your phone here with me, go take a shower, get into your comfiest PJs, and get nice and warm under the covers until I come in with our food? I’ll set up an auto-response on your email so they know you won’t be replying to anyone until tomorrow morning.” 

“I love you so much, Alex.” 

Alex feels warm all over. 

“I love you too, Hen. Go get comfy.” 

Henry gives Alex one last squeeze around the waist and one resounding kiss to the cheek before following Alex’s instructions, leaving his phone on the counter and treading off to the bathroom.

It only takes a minute for the phone to buzz again, and then another minute for an additional buzz. Alex is in the middle of pouring them freshly made lemonade (they enjoy other beverages as well, thank you very much) when it goes off one more time, in the form of an incoming call. He rolls his eyes and places the pitcher down on the counter so he can pick up Henry’s phone and silence it completely. 

Except, when he grabs the phone and flips it around so it’s faced upright, an unmistakable +44 number is flashed on the top of the screen. 

Alex stops in his tracks. 

Hmm. 

A few seconds pass. It buzzes for the third time when Alex shakes his head, presses the off button to decline the phone call, and places it back down. 

He goes back to the pitcher to place it back in the fridge. As he’s closing the door, the phone buzzes with a phone call again. 

God damn it, he thinks. I didn’t even silence it.

He goes back to the phone: +44 number. 

He hits decline again and finally turns the vibrate function off Henry’s phone, placing it face up. He takes one step away and is stopped when the phone lights up once more, +44 staring back at him like it’s his personal reaper. 

Alex is properly annoyed.  

He can still hear the shower running in the bathroom, and if he really strains his ears, can hear the sounds of Henry’s melodic voice singing one of his favorite songs. 

He’s not going to let Henry worry about this. 

This time, when he reaches for the phone, instead of declining for the fourth time, he swipes to accept and raises the phone to his ear. 

“Yes?” He practically spits out.

There’s shuffling heard from the other side of the call, and a distorted man speaks. 

“Is—is this Henry’s number?” 

Another roll of Alex’s eyes. 

“Yes. This is his boyfriend speaking.” He hears a barely audible oh and some more shuffling fills the dead space with no response. He gives it 5 seconds before he huffs and grates out, “He’s not free right now. Do you wanna leave a message?” 

The man on the phone clears his throat, “Oh, yes—well. Just tell him his brother wants to talk to him.” 

Alex just can’t keep it in. 

“That’s it? Just that you want to talk to him? No form of an apology whatsoever, just to kick things off? You do realize he’s not even going to entertain the idea of talking to you again after the last attempt if you don’t actually show remorse over any of your actions, right?”  

Alex doesn’t know Phillip, doesn’t even know what he looks like or how old he is. But from what Henry’s told him since that one particular night—the way he was constantly berated by his older brother over the phone his first year, never given a chance to get a response in before Phillip took his next breath and continued onto his next argument—Alex expects the man to fire off into a self-absorbed tangent on the disrespect Alex is showing to him and blah blah blah. 

So he’s surprised that he’s still met with silence on the other side. 

Alex is fuming, flicking his eyes over to the hallway to confirm Henry is still in the shower, before resuming glaring at the wall as he awaits Phillip’s response. He’s in the midst of opening his mouth to egg the other man on into saying something utterly infuriating when he finally hears a shaky exhale. 

“You’re right,” he hears instead, effectively making his mouth shut. A pause before Phillip resumes, “I do want to apologize. For that last call. I’m not—I…” a weak sigh, “I just want to see my little brother again. I’m ready to make up for my past mistakes.” 

Alex gulps down the sudden knot in his throat. The man on the other side of the call finishes softly, “Please, tell him that.” 

From the hallway, the sound of Henry opening the bathroom door and padding off to his bedroom travels back to Alex. He finds himself instinctively turning his head towards the sound, his heartbeat picking up in speed as he listens for his boyfriend’s hums as he dresses himself. 

The thought of soft, sleepy, warm Henry finding him in the kitchen with an irritated look on his face is what brings him to nod into the air before saying, “Okay. I’ll let him know.” He hears a thank you through the phone, not bothering to say anything else as he ends the call. 

He makes quick work of opening Henry’s email and setting up a simple auto-response: Hi, thank you for your message. I’ll be replying to emails Friday morning. Have a great rest of the day.

He finishes serving dinner onto a wooden tray they’ve bought exclusively for eating in bed. 

By the time he’s carefully tiptoeing to his room, tray in his hands, Henry is already in bed, a slight flush on his cheeks as he raises his hands and makes a grabbing motion for the food. Alex smiles fondly at his boyfriend, and carefully settles into bed next to him, passing a plate over with a proud smile as Henry looks at it with hunger. 

“Thank you, darling. Didn’t realize how starved I would be after all of today’s chaos,” Henry says as he eats his first forkful of pasta and moans. 

Alex can’t help but grin with glee and nuzzle his nose into Henry’s cheek until he’s a giggling mess. Henry pushes him off lightly, and Alex continues smiling. 

“Anything to make you happy, my love.” 

He’ll tell him later. 

He’s had enough stress for the day. 

-

Spring break comes, and Bea and Percy decide to visit Henry and his new beau. 

During this stay, Alex loves his boyfriend enough to decide that he will never subject Henry to the force of June and Nora together in the same room. 

The entire week is filled with teasing and joking at Alex’s expense—it’s all in good fun, despite Alex’s constant wave of embarrassment. He honestly thinks he hasn’t blushed to this degree since he first hit puberty and all the sophomore girls started paying attention to him while also giving Nora the stink eye for being friends with him before he joined lacrosse. 

Percy (Pez, like the sweets) is just…wow. 

Alex has always considered himself a very confident person on the outside. He’s able to calm his nerves and play it cool when he meets someone new (Henry doesn’t count, alright, he’s an anomaly). But Jesus Christ, Pez is just a force to be reckoned with. His bright lavender hair and dazzlingly wicked smile as he interrogates Alex on all his feelings and opinions on Henry leaves Alex in a limbo between perpetual fear of saying the wrong thing and perpetual admiration for this man to maintain calm and steady as Alex sweats bullets.

And Bea. Jesus fucking Christ, Bea. 

She is so unashamed with her blatant flirting that it genuinely makes him want to hide from her field of view whenever they end up in the same room. 

Henry is amused by all of this, of course, because he hates Alex and wants him to die of embarrassment. He indulges in their antics by constantly latching onto Alex’s arm and keeping him put whenever Alex not-so-subtly tries to sneak his way out of the room. 

It’s a lot. The three of them together are a lot. 

Alex loves it.

They don’t relent in their actions until the very end, when they’re loading up their bags into the cab that will take them to the airport. 

Bea tells Henry she forgot her vanity bag in the bathroom inside and asks him to go fetch it. The minute he slips past the front door, Pez rounds on Alex and grabs him by the shoulders, a fierce look in his eyes as he forces Alex to maintain eye contact. Alex feels like he’s about to be murdered. But then Pez grins that award-winning grin of his and pats Alex’s left shoulder firmly.

“Thank you for taking care of my strumpet,” he says. “ Don’t let this inflate your ego because I’m sure Bea and I had a very large contribution this week, but—” he sighs out and nods to Alex. “I haven’t seen him this happy in a very long time. So, thank you, lad. For helping him be happy.” 

Alex tries to gulp down a sigh of relief as Pez releases Alex and backs off, but he’s given no chance as Bea replaces Pez’s position and engulfs Alex in a strong, tight hug. He manages to keep a huff of air at bay at the surprising strength, wrapping his arms tentatively around her. 

She quietly says in his ear, “Thank you for taking care of him for us. We tried our best these last 8 years on the other side of the ocean, and we’ll keep trying. But it feels good knowing he has someone to go home to.”

And god, fuck—Alex loves Henry so fucking much he feels like crying. 

He loves Henry. He loves his sister and his best mate. He loves Henry’s newfound friendship with June and Nora. He loves coming home to a place that is his but also Henry’s, and most importantly, theirs together. 

After they say their goodbyes and finally leave Alex alone with Henry again, he’s still brewing up a storm in his mind over their shared thoughts. And Henry—ever sweet, loving and understanding Henry—can see how lost Alex is in his head. So as they close their front door and take in the silent tranquility of their living room, Henry turns his body around to face Alex with a quirked lip. He reaches out to tug Alex closer by the loops of his jeans, and plants a small kiss on his lips as he says lightly, “I hope you aren’t thinking of running away from me now.” 

And Alex. Well, he can read Henry too, you know? He can hear the hint of vulnerability and fear in his voice, can see the slight downturn on the corner of his lips. 

Alex just can’t let that be, can he? 

So he rolls his eyes and brings his lips back to Henry’s, planting one-two-three kisses before responding, “I could never.”

It echoes in his brain as he leads them to his room. I will never. 

-

This time, when Alex picks up Henry’s book in the laundry room and opens it up to read whatever annotations are inked in, he’s met with a white slip of paper replacing the usual bookmark. In neat handwriting, it reads: 

Stop reading my diary.

A snort leaves his nose and he whips his head up to the direction of the living room, where Henry is currently wrists deep into an academic scavenger hunt on his laptop, completely oblivious to Alex’s discovery. The thought of Henry finally acknowledging Alex’s snooping habits without actually confronting him about it like a normal person brings out a soft chuckle. And the thought of Henry inadvertently confessing his use of the book to gush over his feelings for Alex before they got together makes him bite his lip to keep in a not-so-manly squeal.  

He makes sure to be quick and light on his feet as he sneaks into his room and grabs a pen, flipping the paper around so the blank back side faces him. He scribbles out:

I’m better fit in a western fantasy than the victorian era 

and slips it back inside, bringing the book back onto the washer top.

Henry makes no indication of knowing what Alex just did as he sees Alex enter the living room again. Alex smiles at him and kisses his temple before settling in next to him on the couch and resuming his own studying. 

A day later, Henry barges into the kitchen and corners Alex into the fridge, an annoyed and quite exasperated look on his face as he spills out, “First of all, Pride and Prejudice is set before the Victorian era, you uncultured American. Second of all, I talked to your mother today—do not interrupt me—I talked to your mother, and she said you left your Stetson with her when you left for college like an absolute idiot. And thirdly, adding onto that last point, we need to visit your mother very soon.”

Alex stares back at Henry as he tries to trace back when the fuck Henry got his mom’s number. All he manages to ask is, “Okay, why do we have to visit her?”

Henry looks furious. 

“So you can wear the cowboy hat, Alex. You can’t just make me think about you as a cowboy rescuing me on your horse from a scoundrel and not wear your damn fucking hat.” The glare on Henry’s face is tenfold from moments before. Alex is kind of close to an orgasm from it. 

Henry finally nods to himself as Alex keeps staring back at him dumbfounded, a triumphant hmph leaving his mouth as he turns around and stomps back into his room.

Alex breathes out heavily into the kitchen space. He needs to visit his mom soon. 

- 

They’re in bed one night in May, facing each other as they catch their breaths from minutes before. 

Alex is running a finger along the faint moles scattered around Henry’s expansive chest, feeling the damp skin underneath his finger rise with goosebumps as the cool air of the A/C begins to flutter into their bed sheets. Without having to stray his gaze from Henry’s chest, he can feel Henry staring back at him, seeming to be memorizing every eyelash and every strand of hair sticking onto his cooling forehead. 

Henry finally cuts the silence between them. 

“I think I want to go back to England this summer.”

Alex doesn’t stop his finger from tracing, but his entire attention focuses onto Henry’s face. His head adjusts against his pillow so he can fully look into Henry’s eyes. He knows the answer but asks anyway.

“To visit Phillip?” 

Henry nods and keeps looking at Alex, not saying anything else. Alex can tell he’s waiting for him to say something. It’s not like they haven’t talked about his brother before. Alex did end up telling Henry about the phone call a few weeks after it happened, after Henry confessed how much it hurt that he hadn’t heard from Phillip since that awful phone call last year, even if he was the one to blow up on his brother and end the call abruptly. So Alex told him, to console him, and apologized for overstepping. But Henry simply shook his head and kissed Alex quiet, telling him how much he appreciated his boyfriend for knowing how much it would have destroyed his already stressful day. Since then, Henry had mentioned to Alex that he was the one that eventually rang his brother first a few days later, and had a very awkward 10 minute conversation after hearing Phillip’s apology through the phone. After that, they resorted to texting instead—Phillip sending photos of his wife and his son when Henry politely inquires about them, and Henry sending photos of Alex and his meals when Phillip politely inquires about his boyfriend. 

Alex simply smiles back at Henry when he’s given these updates, mumbling a that’s great, baby into his lips when Henry blushes and looks up at Alex for approval. He tries not to give too much of his opinion on the matter because quite frankly, this isn’t about him and his tendencies to hold spiteful grudges over small inconveniences (let alone the absolute monstrosity of a man making the love of his life sad). 

Henry should be the one to make these decisions. To decide how and when he will move forward with his relationship with his brother. 

Except. Henry is looking at him now, with that soft look in his eyes again, the look of pleading for Alex to respond. To give his opinion. 

So Alex asks, “Can I come with you?”

“You’d want to?” Henry whispers out.

And Alex thinks of saying, well fucking of course I would. I’d follow you to the ends of the Earth. 

Instead, he stops his finger’s movement, blinks up at Henry and takes a really good look at his boyfriend. He can see what he’s really asking now: Would you really want to deal with my family drama? You’d put yourself through that? For me?

Alex brings his hand up to cup Henry’s jaw.

“Henry. I love you. All of you. All your good and all your bad. Let me come with you. Let me take care of you.” 

Henry tilts his head enough to bring his lips to Alex’s palm, kissing it with a quiver in his lips. He breathes into it, “Okay.”

-

They do end up going to England for a week at the end of June, and stay in the guest room in Phillip’s house. It’s a surprise to Bea when Phillip invites her over for tea, coincidentally creating a bittersweet reunion when she brings David with her. Alex makes sure to give Henry extra cuddles the same night he sees him shed a tear over David’s inability to recognize him (and even more cuddles on the flight home after Henry cries goodbye to David, who had jogged his memory once Henry played fetch with him).  

The visit is also a secret to their grandmother, who is none the wiser. Alex is almost disappointed he doesn’t get to meet her and make her regret still being alive. 

Within the first day, as Henry and Alex are putting away their clothes into the wardrobe and rearranging the room so it feels a bit more like home, Phillip knocks on their bedroom door and asks to have a word with Henry in his office. Alex lets him go with a squeeze of his hand and an encouraging smile. 

When Henry returns half an hour later, puffy red eyes staring back at Alex’s inquisitive look, Alex is quick to close the distance and take Henry into his arms. They breathe into each other’s arms for a bit, Alex feeling Henry’s body sink into him from exhaustion. He’s about to ask Henry if he wants to leave (he’ll find a hotel for them somewhere, he’ll make it work) when Henry finally pulls back and smiles tentatively at Alex, “He’s invited us to dinner in the city, if you’d like to go.” 

Alex would never object to keeping that smile on Henry’s face. 

They meet Henry’s nephew, Andrew, and fall absolutely in love. He’s 6 years old, slim and tall like his father, and is an absolute fiend for Jaffa cakes, like his uncle. 

They also meet Martha, and are absolutely perplexed. She’s nice and sweet, very politely mannered, as Henry would have expected from the woman who married his brother. But she also…has an edge to her. Her eyes are always hinted with mischief whenever her husband complains about Andrew’s scheming against him, her sweet smile turns into a smirk whenever Alex makes a joke about the resemblance between the two brothers, and she cackles when Henry tells her an embarrassing childhood story that leaves Phillip seething with brotherly annoyance. 

It’s surprising to Alex, yes. 

But really, as the days go by and Alex continues to observe how Henry becomes more and more relaxed around the house, he starts to notice a couple of things about Phillip. 

He can see the crow’s feet around Phillip’s eyes deepen whenever Martha walks into the room, hands instinctively always reaching for her to stand by his side. He can see faded frown lines around his mouth completely disappear as his mouth opens into a laugh when his son jumps into his arms. He can see the ghost of a pin-straight posture fade into nonexistence as he slouches over to give David belly rubs. Alex is in no place to decide for Henry whether or not Phillip has truly changed for the better. But what he sees now, the way Henry’s eyes light up and his head tilts back to laugh along to an inside joke that seems to track decades between them…

Well. 

Alex is okay with visiting England more often. 

-

It’s the start of November, and the apartment is beginning to get very cold in the morning. 

Waking up to the 7 am alarm is becoming torture now that Alex wakes up to a warm body wrapped around him that he inevitably has to remove himself from and expose himself to the cold. 

But if Alex is one thing, he’s opportunistic. 

Especially when it’s today, of all days, and Henry is blinking awake in front of him, a pillow mark on his cheek from the night before and a pair of plump pink lips just begging to be kissed. Alex makes quick work of bringing his boyfriend to complete consciousness. 

When they’re in the kitchen a bit later, as Alex checks his bag for all his supplies while Henry is stirring in the teaspoon of cinnamon into his coffee, Alex remembers that it’s today again, and removes the mug from Henry’s hands so he can kiss him until he runs out of breath. 

Alex tries really hard to keep in his excitement, he really does. 

But as he’s kissing his boyfriend goodbye from the front door (meaning scattering a million kisses across Henry’s face as he blushes and grins), he just can’t help but keep looking back into the hallway. 

Henry notices after the third time and he pushes Alex’s face away with a hand on his jaw, turning to look behind him as well. 

“What do you keep looking back for? Is there a ghost in our apartment that I’m not aware of?” 

Alex brings his eyes back to Henry’s after lingering his gaze at the hallway for one more second, looking at Henry with an easy grin. 

“Yeah, it’s Jane Austen coming to haunt you for desecrating her work.” 

Henry squeezes the hand around Alex’s jaw in mock anger and lightly pushes him completely off, scoffing as he shoos him out the door, “Go away, you miscreant.” 

Alex leans in fast for one last sloppy kiss to the cheek before turning around and sprinting off. 

“I regret rooming with you!” he hears from behind. 

He shouts without looking back, “No you don’t!”

The day goes by a lot slower than Alex wants it to, but he occupies himself with double (quadruple) texting Henry every chance he gets. He’s not ashamed that after so many months of being able to call Henry his, his heart still skips a beat every time his phone pings and “Henry 💛” is displayed on his Home Screen, even if the text in question reads, 

Pay attention to class, you insufferable git. 

He comes home to an amused Henry grumbling about being distracted all day by Alex’s texts. Alex doesn’t feel bad for kissing him into silence. 

Finally, when it’s time for bed (and cuddles), and Henry is exiting the bathroom with freshly brushed teeth, Alex stops him in his tracks. 

“Hey, baby?”

Henry turns around and finds Alex behind him, standing in between the bathroom and Henry’s bedroom. He blinks back at him. 

“Yes?” 

“Can you bring your black hoodie from your room? I wanna wear it tonight.” 

Henry blinks again, his eyes tracking to the room behind Alex before refocusing on him. “You mean, can I go into the room that’s right behind you? The one you’re closest to?” 

Alex smiles innocently, “Yep.” 

There’s a clear look of confusion taking over Henry’s face, but he’s a sweet boyfriend and he indulges in Alex’s weird antics, so he nods his head and begins to walk to his bedroom, getting closer to Alex’s position in the hallway. 

There’s a skip in Alex’s step as he takes this cue and begins to walk towards his own room, both men moving closer together as they walk opposite directions. When they pass each other, Alex extends a hand out to the side so it brushes against Henry’s hip along the way. He grins at the touch and whips around. 

“Hey.” 

Henry pauses in his steps and turns his head.

“Yes?”

“How was your day?” 

Henry huffs and turns around completely. 

“Alex, what on Earth are you doing?”

“Just answer the question, Henry. How was your day?”

He crosses his arms with furrowed brows and Alex mimics the movement (except that stupid grin is still plastered on his lips).

“It was fine. I had two classes, the students were very enthusiastic about discussing today’s chapters, and I almost tripped and fell in front of a group of visiting high schoolers. It was horrendous. But you know that already, Alex.”

Alex nods and unfolds his arms again, body completely buzzing now. 

“Now ask me how mine was.” 

“How was your day, Alex?” Henry rolls his eyes. 

Alex blabs away. 

“Oh, yanno. The usual. Discussion in the morning, followed by office hours. Then a very quick gym session considering Hunter came in after 20 minutes, and I did not want to deal with that today. The barista thought I wanted an Americano instead of just iced coffee but I didn’t complain because she promised she’d give me free coffee next time. And then my professor said he was impressed by the class’s performance on the last exam, so. Like any other day.” 

He pauses to catch his breath, and finally softens his grin into a soft smile. He stops himself from reaching over and smoothing out the crinkle in Henry’s forehead as he looks expectantly at Alex to finish. He continues. 

“If this was a year ago, I would have said I was lonely at the end, as I went about my day. That I missed my family and my friends, and I missed having a real connection with someone. But it’s today. And today I was able to text my boyfriend and tell him how much I loved him and missed him and couldn’t wait to go home to him.” 

Henry finally catches on, if the look of adoration seeping into his eyes and mouth is anything to go by. His crossed arms loosen and reach out towards Alex’s figure.

“Come here,” he whispers out, and Alex closes the short distance to wrap his arms around Henry and exhale into his neck. His boyfriend, his roommate, his best friend. The man who suffered through the worst of Alex’s anxiety for weeks last year, as he battled and conquered his self-doubting thoughts just to reach out and hug the man opposite him. The man who now kisses him, makes him coffee every morning, helps him stay sane as he navigates yet another year of law school. The man who loves him, just as much as Alex loves him back. 

In the end, Henry pulls him out of his thoughts as he mumbles into the side of Alex’s head.

“You’re such a sucker for romance.”

It brings a soft laugh out of him. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Let’s go watch Bake Off.”