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Alex stands in the kitchen making Henry and Pez tea. The two are sitting at the table gossiping about something or another; Alex isn’t really paying any attention. Until.
“He’s great, dearest,” Pez says, voice insistent as he holds his phone out for Henry. “Just give him a chance.”
Henry looks at the phone, gives Pez a placating smile, and a small laugh. “Not this time,” he says, placing a hand over Pez’s phone and lowering it to the table.
“If we’re not going to give ourselves to gorgeous men now, then when?” Pez says, the words drawn out and dramatic, as if he can’t quite make sense of Henry’s answer.
“I’m happy as I am.”
“You’d be happier if you got laid, my boy.” Pez leans in, butting his shoulder against Henry’s. “Come on, what happened to my favorite s—”
“I’m happy as I am,” Henry interrupts, the words a gentle reinforcement. “I don’t need to go out and sleep with strange men.”
“Hot,” Pez corrects, “Not strange. Bloody gorgeous, even. He’s just your type.”
Henry shakes his head. “I appreciate you caring about me,” He says. “But truly. I am genuinely happy as I am.”
Pez sighs, long suffering. “I miss fun Henry.”
Henry rolls his eyes at him, and they drop the subject to go on about the plans for the fundraiser they’ve volunteered to host for the local youth shelter.
It’s fine.
Alex is fine. Henry glances up at him from beneath his lashes, quirking a brow. Alex grins brightly at him, ignoring the knot in his stomach. It’s not Pez’s fault. He doesn’t know.
There’s so much food.
Alex feels like his stomach might burst, and across the table from him, adorably flushed and full, himself, Henry’s sitting, leaned back in his chair, gently patting his stomach. Fondness courses through Alex’s stomach, and he’s just about to knock his knee into Henry’s below the table, when June grabs a wonton off the table and gives him a pointed look.
“Not that I’m not grateful,” she starts, dropping the wonton on her plate, “But you’ve been disturbingly quiet about your romantic interests.”
Henry sits up straighter.
Alex frowns, sliding back in his chair and reaching for the crab rangoons. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says.
Nora rolls her eyes. “Your sister’s worried you’re lonely,” she explains, but laughs with a wave of her hand. “But we all know better.”
He freezes, hand hovering over the crab rangoons; he doesn’t miss the way Henry tenses in his seat, either. “We do?” he asks, forcing himself to pick up the rangoon and lean back in his chair. He goes for nonchalant when he says, “What exactly is it that we know?”
“You’re not lonely,” Nora purrs.
“No?” His throat feels tight, hands itching with nervousness. His eyes dart over to Henry, and then back.
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t forget that I know you,” She says. “Just because you’re not advertising it, doesn’t mean you’re not out there.”
“Out there.”
June sighs. “She’s saying you’re sleeping around, Alex.”
“I’m sleeping around?”
“I don’t want to hear any details,” June says, ignoring him entirely. “I just want you to be safe. And your being completely radio silent worries me that you’re not. Being safe, that is.”
Henry slouches in his seat, and Alex shoves the crab rangoon in his mouth. “I’m being safe,” he mutters once he’s swallowed it. “But I’m not—” Henry tenses again, and Alex sighs, dropping it. “I’m being safe,” he repeats.
“Good.”
Nora leans in and grabs the fried rice. “We want nieces and nephews, but you know. Not yet.”
Quietly, Henry picks up the sweet and sour chicken and plates it for himself.
He doesn’t say anything.
So, neither does Alex.
They’re sitting side by side on the couch. Henry’s talking to Bea on facetime, the movie they’d been watching paused. Alex’s breath catches as Henry discreetly scoots further away from him, until he’s sitting on the complete opposite end of the couch.
They update each other on their lives, and Alex sits idly by, listening to the back and forth as he browses twitter on his phone.
Bea tells Henry about her life since their last call.
Henry tells Bea everything about his life since their last call.
Well.
Not everything.
It’s.
Not a secret, exactly.
It’s just, time fucking flies when you’re having fun and before anyone knows it you’re six months deep in a relationship that feels like its going to stand the test of time and neither you nor your boyfriend know how to sit down your friends and family and tell them the truth. And, okay, this is kind of their faults, in a way, because they had agreed to test the limits of their relationship in the privacy of their apartment and never really in front of anyone else—
Okay, fuck, maybe it is a secret.
But, Alex is staring at Henry, and he’s thinking. Because June and Nora are sitting in their living room holding hands as open about their relationship as Alex has been dreaming he and Henry could be, and Alex can’t stop fucking thinking. Because before they arrived, Henry had had him pushed up against the refrigerator, devastating all the plans Alex had for the day. But now that June and Nora are here, he’s poised and perfect and resolutely sitting five feet away from Alex at all times.
He likes their bubble, don’t get him wrong.
The time they spend together—it’s everything. It’s the kind of comfortable intimacy Alex didn’t know he needed, but now that he has, can’t bear to imagine living without.
But.
He’d also, kind of, like to take Henry on a date. And for Pez to stop trying to set Henry up with a wide array of men that are absolutely not good enough for him. Or for June to stop acting like Alex is sleeping his way around New York without any intention of settling down. Hell, for Nora to stop making jokes about how many mystery children Alex probably has around the city. It’s all so innocuous, but it fucking hurts.
He’d like to take Henry home for the holidays as his boyfriend rather than as his roommate. Would rather his family take him in as family rather than friend. He’d, fuck, he’d like to walk down the street holding Henry’s hand. It’s such a small thing, but it’s been circling his mind for weeks. Even now, his gaze slips down to Henry’s hands on his lap. He wants to close the distance between them and pull Henry’s hand into his own lap, hold him there; allow himself to be anchored by his touch.
There’s just so much that Alex wants.
Henry’s head tips to the side as he glances at Alex. Their eyes meet, a small smile forming on his lips. Something carefully calculated; nothing like the wide open smile and bright eyes Alex gets when they’re alone. With company he’s guarded, even with June and Nora who are here more than they’re not. With company, he’s not Alex’s Henry. He’s not his. They don’t belong to one another the way they do when they’re alone.
And that’s the thing.
Alex wants to be Henry’s. All the time.
Because.
Well.
Because he loves him.
It’s a relatively new realization. It still sends a shock through his system every time he thinks the word; his heart does a giddy little jump because it’s the simple act of recognition that makes it real. He thinks Henry feels the same, fairly certain he feels it in the graze of Henry’s fingers against his skin; the press of their lips. The sleepy smile in the morning when they wake up curled together; the gentle kiss to Alex’s temple as they’re falling asleep.
Whether or not they love each other isn’t the problem.
They’d had this conversation at the start. An agreement that this would just be theirs while they figured things out. They’ve long since figured things out , though. Henry’s room remains empty at the start and end of each day. When he comes home, he embraces Alex tightly, pressing a kiss to his cheekbone, like he’s not truly home until he’s piled himself in Alex’s arms and pressed his lips into his skin. And when they leave for the day, they embrace before the door, whispering sweet little nothings into each others hair, before finally pulling apart and allowing the day to separate them.
But Alex can’t ask.
Henry’s the one who asked for the privacy. He’s never indicated an interest in anything else.
His brows furrow, head tilting as he looks Alex over. Alex swallows and shakes his head at him, turning his attention on Nora. He feels Henry’s gaze on him though. Can practically feel the change in the air; Henry’s concern is a tangible thing, and he knows they’re going to have a talk when June and Nora leave, and Alex is going to have to try to pretend like the secrecy isn’t eating him up from the inside out, the same way he has since he realized he’s in love with him, but for now, he can get lost in Nora’s story about work.
His gaze darts over to June, she’s not listening to Nora, either. Her eyes flick back and forth between him and Henry. When her eyes meet Alex’s, she raises an eyebrow as if to ask, is everything okay?
He rolls his eyes at her; a half assed attempt at saying everything’s fine. Her gaze lingers, though, before finally returning to Nora.
He looks down at his lap, before glancing up at Henry from beneath his lashes. Henry’s still watching him, a furrow in his brow.
Alex wishes he’d reach across the divide and take his hand.
He doesn’t.
He turns back to Nora.
And Alex, as always, follows in his stead.
Henry leans his back against the front door after closing it behind Nora and June and gives Alex a steady stare. He crosses his legs at the ankle; waits.
Alex meets his gaze head on from his place on the couch.
He waits, too.
For several long, excruciating moments, neither of them move or speak.
“What’s wrong?” Henry finally asks, voice soft.
Alex forces a smile. “Nothing.”
A frown. Henry uncrosses his legs and shoves away from the door. “Alex,” he says. “You’ve had that devastated look on your face for more than an hour. What’s wrong?”
This is the part where Alex asks why Henry still wants to keep this a secret. The words bubble at the back of his throat, but they get stuck on the fear of possibility. Possibility that Henry will admit he doesn’t want this out there; that Alex isn’t enough, just like he hadn’t been enough for his family, he’s not enough for Henry; that he’s ashamed of what they’ve built together. That the love Alex is feeling is deeply unreciprocated.
He clears his throat, shrugging. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Henry looks pained as he takes a step further into the living room. “Ever since Nora said she and June are looking for a place together, you’ve been acting odd.” He clenches his jaw, and his eyebrows furrow as if he’s stuck in his own thought spiral. “Beyond that, too. The last few days, it’s as if you’re somewhere far away.”
Nora and June revealing their plans for the future had been about the moment Alex realized they had everything he wants with Henry, so that makes sense.
Alex swallows, shuffling to sit at the edge of the couch cushion. He settles his elbows on his knees, and shrugs up at Henry. “Don’t know what to tell you,” he says. “I’m fine.”
He’s so fucking far from fine.
He wants to shake Henry by the shoulders and demand answers.
But he doesn’t want to lose him, damn it.
Henry squints. “Why are you lying to me?” He asks. “Since when do we keep things from each other?”
The words are tumbling from Alex’s mouth before he can think to catch them; “Just from everyone else, right?” Fuck. He closes his eyes and drops his head down between his shoulders. “Sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t apologize for having feelings,” Henry says. He takes two more steps. “Can you . . . explain what that meant? So I don’t misinterpret?”
Alex clenches his jaw, his hands digging into his hair. He shakes his head again, forces himself to take a deep breath and sits up. “Actually,” he says, forcing a lightness to his voice that hasn’t been there all night. He shoves up from the couch, nodding. “I think I’m gonna go for a run.” He smiles close lipped at Henry, and starts to turn towards the bedroom so he can go change.
He nearly misses the stunned look on Henry’s face.
“Alex,” he says, voice thick.
Alex pauses beside the couch. “I just have a lot of energy,” he tries. “Gotta run it off.”
There’s a heavy pause. “Is that really all it is?” Henry says, his voice barely more than a whisper. Alex listens to the pad of his feet as he closes the distance between them. “Because it feels like something’s shattering and I — darling, I’m trying to catch it before the shards destroy us.” he stops right behind Alex and he can feel his body warmth despite the fact that they’re not touching. “If somethings wrong, we should talk about it.”
Alex’s heart aches. He drops his chin and takes in a big breath. “What could possibly be wrong?” he asks, voice light; tip toeing around the danger.
He feels the trembling breath that Henry exhales against the back of his neck. “Is this—” he breaks off, and Alex can hear him swallow. “Are you no longer content with—with us?”
The way he says it, it sounds like he’s physically pulling the words from the depth of his chest. Like he’s forcing them out despite his body clutching at them like they’re some precious, never meant to be shared secret.
Alex bites down on his bottom lip.
Henry’s hand comes out, gently wrapping around Alex’s. “Love,” he says, soft, slightly choked off. “Please talk to me.” He weaves their fingers together. “I can’t stand this; you’re upset, and I don’t know what I’ve done to cause it, but if you’ll allow me the chance to fix it, I will.”
The dam in Alex’s chest shatters.
He looks to the ceiling, willing the tears not to come, but his vision goes blurry anyways. “I don’t want to lose you,” he admits, his voice wet and miserable. Behind him, Henry’s breath hitches, and the hand in his squeezes.
“You won’t,” Henry breathes, his free hand coming up to Alex’s bicep, skimming along the skin and rising to his shoulder, it hesitates there, and Alex can feel it trembling against him through the fabric of his shirt. “Whatever it is.”
Alex turns into him then, the hand on his shoulder falling down to his lower back, and their entwined hands crossing against his abdomen as he moves into Henry, his free hand coming up to wrap around him. He pulls his hand free from Henry’s and brings that arm around too, burying his face in the crook of Henry’s neck as Henry’s hand comes up to grip his hip.
A noise emerges from the back of Henry’s throat, something surprised and worried, but he grips Alex tight. One of his hands slips into Alex’s hair, carefully carting through the curls.
Finally, Alex says, with his cheek pressed against Henry’s shoulder, breathing in his scent as if it might be the last time, “I can’t do this anymore.”
Henry goes very, very still.
“What?” He asks. Alex feels the word rumbling from Henry’s chest more than he hears it; it’s like a silent earthquake.
Alex pulls his head away to look at him.
Devastation is written in his eyes.
“I can’t do it,” Alex repeats.
There’s a moment where Henry doesn’t do anything—doesn’t speak or breathe or move—and then he’s catching a breath and extricating himself from Alex’s grip and taking a large step back as he wraps his arms around himself. “I see,” he says, his voice trembling.
Gingerly, Alex stands in the middle of the living room, vulnerability seeping into his bones as he finally tells him the truth. “The secrecy is just—” Alex looks to the ceiling, taking in a big, angry breath. “I don’t just want you when I’m alone with you,” he admits, the words aching as they rise from his throat, fear soaked and desperate for understanding. “I don’t want to hide what I feel for you. It’s—it’s like we’re in this perfect fucking bubble but then Pez comes and you’re talking about going on dates with strangers, and it fucking kills me.”
Henry’s brow furrows, his hands falling to his sides. “What?”
“Every day we walk out that door I feel like I’m breaking in half; like I'm leaving behind the best parts of me, because who I am when we’re together is who I want to be all the time.” Finally he lets himself meet Henry’s gaze. “I don’t want to lie to the people we love, and I don’t want to sit five feet apart when we’re around people as if we don’t share a bed. And—I—I want to hold your hand when we walk down the street.” He reaches up and wipes at his watery nose with his wrist. “I’m so in love with you and I can’t just spend half my life pretending that I’m not. It fucking hurts, Henry.”
Henry’s mouth falls open.
Alex forces himself to take a breath, chest heaving with the motion. “That’s it,” He says. “I know you don’t want the pressure of people knowing about us, but I—I can’t pretend that it’s not tearing me apart. Because it is and I can’t do it anymore. I can’t be your secret anymore.”
Henry’s Adam’s apple bobs. “You—” He breaks off, his eyebrows pinching together. “You’re in love with me?”
Nodding, Alex’s gaze falls to the floor between them.
“Christ, Alex,” Henry says, exhaling. “I thought you were breaking up with me.”
Feeling as fragile as a baby fucking bird, Alex looks up at him. “Aren’t you ending things with me?” He asks.
Henry makes a face. “Why on earth would I do that?”
“Because I want too much? Because I am too much?”
“Oh,” Henry breathes, something like understanding dawning on his face. “Oh, my darling, no.” He steps in, reaching out for Alex’s hands, seeming to second guess himself as they veer upwards and cup both of Alex’s cheeks. He steadily meets Alex’s gaze, holding the stare. “No.”
Alex’s shoulders sag. “But I—”
“I’m so in love with you,” Henry interrupts, his thumbs brushing the errant tears sitting on Alex’s cheeks away. “That I can hardly think. I’ve been in love with you since we sat in that disgusting dorm and told each other our worst fears. I have been in love with you for so long that it feels like it’s a piece of me.” He raises his eyebrows and looks at Alex with intent. “I thought you wanted to keep it a secret. I was following your lead.”
“My lead?” Alex chokes, his hands coming up to wrap around Henry’s wrists. “You were the one who said—”
“Alex, you weren’t out yet.”
Alex blinks. “Is that the only reason you . . . ?” He trails off, swallowing down a lump in his throat. “I came out months ago.”
“I didn’t want to pressure you.”
Alex stares at him.
And stares.
Henry makes a face. “Don’t look at me like that.”
Alex huffs. “I threw myself at you over our dining room table and you didn’t want to pressure me?”
“Yes, well, when you put it like that, it sounds . . .”
“Fucking stupid.”
Henry’s lips form a straight line. “Coming from the man who thought I’d end our relationship because he wants to hold my hand in public.”
“You’ve ended relationships for way less.”
“They weren’t you.” Henry murmurs intently. “I’d never give you up if I didn’t have to.” He swallows and moves in closer, hands slipping from Alex’s cheek and down to cup the sides of his throat, a gentle caress along his skin.
Alex lets go of Henry’s wrists in favor of placing them on Henry’s hips. He pulls them closer together; Henry comes in to him easily, like being near Alex is the only place he wants to be. “I want to tell people,” He says. “I want to tell everyone that I’m in love with you. And that we’re, you know; we’re a we. ”
Henry nods. “I believe that can be arranged.”
“And when June and Nora visit, I want you to hold my hand.” Henry’s eyes go glassy at that, but he nods again.
“Darling,” Henry whispers, leaning into him and pressing their foreheads together. “Whatever you want.”
Alex nuzzles into him, eyes slipping shut. “Do you want it too?” He asks.
There’s no hesitation in Henry’s reply: “More than anything.”
“Okay.”
Henry nods against him. “Okay.”
They stand like that for several minutes, breathing one another in as if it might be their last. And then finally, blissfully, Henry tips his chin and kisses him; soft; chaste; perfect; everlasting.
They’re holding hands when Henry opens the front door.
June clocks it within half a second of stepping into the apartment.
She grabs Nora’s shoulder, nods to their hands, and says, “Thank god.”
Nora looks at Alex. “Honestly,” she says, moving around them and heading for the kitchen as if she lives here. “Boys are so fucking stupid.”
They stare after her, June’s laughter a soundtrack that lights up the living room.
“You knew?”
“Oh, Alejandro,” Nora chides from the kitchen, eyebrows lifting as she turns to look at June.
“Everyone knows,” June says for her.
“When you actually cut the sexual tension it doesn’t just go unnoticed,” Nora adds, pulling open the refrigerator with a grin. “All you have is leftover takeout.” She peeks around the door, grinning. “We should go out. Double date.”
“We kind of expected more of a reaction,” Alex says dumbly.
June pats his shoulder as she moves around him to head for their couch. “Would you rather we pretend to be shocked?” She pauses as she looks between them. “Wait. Is this why you were all angsty last week?”
“I wasn’t angsty—”
Henry huffs out a breath. “You were, perhaps, a touch angsty, love.”
Alex turns to him. “Traitor, much?”
“Be nice to your boyfriend,” Nora says, plopping onto the couch next to June.
“I am!” Alex exclaims, but there’s a warm, fuzzy feeling pillowing in his chest, the word boyfriend hanging in the air like an exclamation of it’s own.
When they tell Pez, he looks between them, and then sighs. “I owe Bea fifty quid.”