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His grandmother had summoned him, and he knew better than to say no. These things could be put off by an exam, a fake cold, the self-preservation of wanting to prolong the agony as long as possible, but eventually he had to go.
He has just finished his A-Levels, English Literature, Geography and French this afternoon. He had a conditional offer for Oxford, but he knew, they all knew, he would be going. He could get three U’s and still go to Oxford, there was nothing conditional for a prince. It made the revising feel futile sometimes, but Henry did it anyway, he enjoyed learning, he wanted to do well, and he always cherished when he got something from merit, rather than from pedigree.
He thinks he did well, but truly he has no idea. It’s all a haze, it has been a haze since his dad died. Fog, interspersed with moments of excruciating lucidity. His dad was dead, he was gone, he was never coming back. Henry could barely shut his eyes without seeing his dad dying against the back of his lids, pale and sunken, the death rattle jangling amongst the clean clinical room, that did nothing to portray the devastation of it. Henry felt like the walls should have been red, should have been screaming, the heavens opening and pouring storms upon his head. For his dad, his kind and spirited dad, who had ridden motorbikes, taken Henry on adventures and defied every expectation the royal family had for him and his family.
He had been James Bond for fucks sake, he was meant to be invincible. How had he been diminished to white walls and beeping machines and cracked skin, his breath sounding like it was being forcibly taken from his chest as he drew closer and closer to the last one he would ever take. It comes back in fragments, his mum’s cries, a wounded sound such he had never heard, Bea’s stupefied face, Philip’s crumbled one. The funeral, the millions and millions of people watching their grief as if it was light entertainment that their world had just dropped from underneath them.
Maybe he had got three U’s, who’s to tell, maybe that’s what his grandmother wants to talk about, he hasn’t a clue.
He waits to be summoned, to be announced, and then he is, and he bows as he always does, moves forward to kiss her wrinkled cheek, like she is some stranger, some higher deity, not his granny. But she is the queen, there are protocols to be upheld, there were always protocols to be upheld.
His grandmother sits on a brocaded armchair, and he sits himself on a matching sofa opposite, upholstered in pink and gold, stiff and uncomfortable, like every conversation he has ever had here. There is tea sitting on the table between them, a bell ready to be rung if they want it poured. Neither of them moves, and Henry waits.
‘How did your exams go?’
‘Ok, I think’
A heavy silence sits again, she wasn’t one to reassure him that she is sure he did fine, and it doesn’t matter either way. There is no unconditional love here, maybe no love at all.
‘Henry’ she says and leans forward, her hands folded in her laps, her steely gaze fixed on him ‘there’s something we need to discuss. You don’t need to reply or say anything, but this needs to be said, and I need you to hear it. I need you to understand it.’
Henry simply nods, anxiety rising in his chest.
‘You are young, and I know young people can have certain thoughts, maybe feel certain ways about certain people. The ways of the youth’ she waves her hand dismissively ‘but I need you to understand that any deviant desires you may be beginning to harbour, anything that will reflect poorly upon the crown, upon our values and our image, anything that will deviate from that, it is not acceptable.’
‘If you really must indulge in these desires, you will do so discreetly, there are appropriate channels you can pursue so that our image is maintained. You will still marry, we can find you someone suitable if we must, and she will be compensated accordingly. But you cannot, will not, partake in any sordid affairs where prying eyes can see, do you hear me?’
Henry’s head is full of static, his heart hammering in his chest. Really, he should have expected this. Amongst everything else, it had never occurred to him that his grandmother might have noticed he was something besides the straight prince he was meant to be. It doesn’t make it hurt any less, or stop a fracture being added to his heart that is currently held together with flimsy tape, divots cracked on every surface.
‘Yes Granny’ he says eventually.
‘Good’
She rings her bell and Henry gets to his feet, bows and leaves; the door held open by one of her many staff.
He doesn’t let the tears fall until he is back at Kensington Palace, but there aren’t many to siphon, he is a well run dry. He misses his dad.
--------
He was stupid, so stupid. He had been so naïve, so fanciful, to have the temerity to think that Alex might feel the same about him. Of course he didn’t. Henry had taken all the texts, the selfies from bed, the long phone calls, and added them up to more than they were.
He felt after so long having to gauge people’s feelings and their intentions that he had got pretty good at it, clearly not. This thing with Alex, whatever it was, it no longer felt platonic. And although for Henry it has been one sided for years, that had been mostly due to proximity, to their limited interactions, he couldn’t blame it on that anymore. He and Alex communicated every day, it was platonic, it always would be, and Henry had to appreciate that he had that at all.
The air feels blue with the cold, sadness seeping through his veins as the snow squashes underfoot. The sky fills with bangs and sparks, distant shouts, the muted thud of the continuing party. He turns his eyes to the sky and tries to find it, to find him.
‘Dad’ he sighs ‘I’ve been so stupid. Not to sound like a sullen teenager, but I thought he liked me. And I’ve been nothing but delusional to think that would ever be the case. I should know better. Life’s not been easy since you left us. Mum is-‘ he sighs heavily ‘catatonic. Bea almost killed herself, Philip continues to toe the family line, never stopping to consider anything else but the image we must maintain. Gran hasn’t changed, she’s as hostile as she ever was, and nobody’s here to fight for us anymore. It’s so hard to fight a war with faulty armour, all alone- ‘
Henry pauses, sure he hears movement behind him.
‘What’re you doing out here?’
‘Looking for Orion’
How can he not know? How can he not know that he has Henry’s heart entirely? That Henry wants him just as he is, chaotic and beautiful and true. That he craves it with every fibre of his being, to kiss his lips, to touch his skin, to hear their moans mingle together. He thinks about it so much, the thought of Alex having brought him over the edge so many times.
He would never compare it, would never say it out loud, but as they talk and Henry edges closer to letting Alex know the truth of him, he imagines this is what addiction might feel like. What it felt like when Bea wasn’t sober, when she knew she shouldn’t, but it didn’t feel like a choice, it was a necessity, it was unfightable. The action done without any real conscious thought beyond ‘this is what I need’ like oxygen, like the continued beat of his heart, critical to get to the next moment of life.
He kisses Alex without really thinking about it at all, he has to do it. And then his brain is cotton wool, it is fuzz, and it is sugary sweet, Alex’s lips are so soft, he is kissing Alex, then Alex is kissing him. Henry’s fingers find their way into Alex’s curls, gripping, and a distant part of him registers that his hair is just as soft as he had imagined. But then Alex makes a noise, and fuck, what the fuck is Henry doing? What was he thinking? Fuck. That friendship he cherished above everything else? Poof, gone. Just for the childish notion that Alex liked him back? He has ruined it all, so he runs.
------
He knows it won’t be easy, before the last couple of days he didn’t think it even possible. It will take a while for him to wrap his head around, perhaps forever. Alex was here, he was his and they were going to fight for this life to be theirs. Henry had known, all this time, that it would never be forever with Alex, as much as he wanted it, it could not happen.
Alex, well Alex wouldn’t take that, wouldn’t take this forced route that Henry for so long had seen as the only road he could ever walk down. He was grabbing Henry’s hand and dragging him along, into this life they both wanted. They loved each other, they couldn’t live without each other, how had Henry ever thought he could let that go? How had he ever thought he had to?
For as long as he could remember, Henry had had a weight sitting atop his chest. He had got used to it, to the point where on an average day he barely noticed it. But the life of a prince involved a lot of days out of the average. When his dad had died, it felt like the rock Sisyphus was forever pushing, the weight of the world Atlas had to hold. Constant pressure, unrelenting, it crushed his lungs making it hard to breathe, and it broke his damn heart. And yet, he had to keep calm and carry on, maintain a stiff upper lip, despite the fact that he could not move for the weight atop of him.
But Henry had spent his whole life being told what to do by the crown, and so he did as he had to, like following a script he had long since memorised. Act the part, go from A to B, a marionette’s strings forever dangling above him. He had never thought he had options; it had never even occurred to him.
He knew what he wanted, he wanted to get away from this archaic institution, fall in love, live a life freely, as himself, not as some caricature. But it seemed as feasible as sprouting wings and going to live on the moon. He could dream, he did, of a man who loved him, of the weight of him flush against him instead of this crushing weight against his chest, a soft warm house full of blankets and worn paperbacks. It wasn’t going to happen, he knew that, but he could dream.
He found his fun where he could, at Oxford the most, the weight shifting from time to time, the vastness of it shrinking. It always remained though, the knowledge that he could never have the life he wanted, the pebble of grief in his chest beating incessantly. He would figure out his life, the way he had to, but he knew, as innate as the very soul of him, that the weight would always sit atop him for the rest of his life, never letting go.
Then Alex happened, tumbling into his life in a sea of buttercream and indignation.
Henry had never thought he had options and then Alex went and turned his whole world upside down, had showed him another way, had led him out of the wooded forest and into the sun, the light of it eroding the weight little by little.
Now they are here, in Henry’s most sacred place. It reminds him so much of his dad, early mornings spent looking at all the art, taking it in, and being allowed to enjoy it. He had loved talking to his dad about the art and the history of it all, long esoteric conversations that soothed his soul.
Henry had so wanted to share this place with Alex, to take him where love and grief intermingled, like so much of his life did. To share the place he had loved with his dad, his fragile precious guarded memories, with the man who had helped him out of the fog.
He holds Alex’s hand, warm in his, and tells him about each piece, the stories of them all. Alex listens, he listens like he cares, like he wants to hear every word that Henry has to say, like it matters, like he matters, more than just for being a prince, but for being Henry Fox, the anxious nerd with his heart on the outside of his chest, the man he loved. Alex loved him and that wasn’t a catastrophe, it was everything and they would figure it out, because this was it.
‘When I was younger’ Henry says ‘I had this very elaborate idea of taking somebody I loved here and standing inside the chapel, that he’d love it as much as I did, and we’d slow dance right in front of the Blessed Mother. Just a … daft pubescent fantasy.’
He takes a second, but then thinks fuck it, they are in love, they are so in love, if Henry can’t act out his fantasy now, when will he ever? Your Song starts to play, and he holds his hand out to Alex.
They dance right there, swaying around slowly, holding each other so close and Henry feels like his heart might fly out of his chest with how much he loves the man in his arms.
Where he used to come with his dad when he was little, when he has come alone as he got older, where now he holds Alex who fits into his arms like he was made for Henry. So much love, so much heartbreak, seen by these walls, and now this, a weight lessening as they turned in circles under the low lights of a museum holding every emotion known to man.
-----
This is it, they finally have a home, which has been renovated to security standards and soundproofed to within an inch of its life. So ok, maybe it doesn’t feel like it yet, with the boxes everywhere and the lack of furniture but it is theirs. Not a palace or a residence or a place where other people roamed. It was their space to do what they wanted with, to live how they wanted. To be naked whenever they wanted, like now, approximately 45 minutes after the last of the boxes had been deposited and the door had been locked.
Alex had shucked his trousers right there in the hallway, like he was a stripper and they had Velcro along the sides. In reality, he’d had to hop around a little clumsily, but it did nothing to endear him any less to Henry, if anything it endeared it to him more. It did something for both of them, when they didn’t have to be public figures, but simply Alex and Henry. Neurotic and eager and clumsy, two humans, same as anyone else, head over heels for each other.
Two young men who just wanted to get as close to each other as often as they could. Like right now, where they are lying on their mattress in their bedroom, a sheet hastily pulled onto it. The bedframe has yet to be delivered, along with the sofa and the white goods, and well pretty much everything beyond their personal affects. They had made sure there was a mattress though. Henry thinks fleetingly as Alex sucks his collarbone, his fingers digging into his sides, that they have no further to fall, when they are right next to the ground.
‘Come on baby, let me hear you’ Alex nibs at his jaw with his teeth ‘we can be as loud as we want Hen. This is our home. We could fuck with all the doors wide open and scream as loud as we want, and it won’t fucking matter.’
Alex kisses down his chest and Henry grinds up into him, his hands gripping Alex’s hair.
‘Only I get to see you like this baby, so beautiful, laid out all pretty just for me. Nobody can take this from us, nobody else gets to hear your moans, gets to taste you’ Alex sucks on his hip bone and Henry lets out a long low groan.
‘That’s it baby, only I get to touch you like this’ Henry hears the flick of the lube bottle and a few moments later, feels Alex’s finger circling his rim before he pushes it in ‘only I get to be inside you, get to feel you here, feel you clench around my fingers’ he surges back up and kisses Henry, deep and perfect, and Henry moans into it.
‘Christ Alex, keep talking, keep going.’
‘You like it when I talk don’t you baby? Should I tell you how crazy you make me feel, how hard you make me’ Alex presses his cock against Henry’s thigh, grinding down onto him ‘how I could lose myself right now? Rutting against those god damn polo playing thighs with you gasping beneath me. Would you like that?’
Henry would very much like that, he would like it all, everything, every configuration he and Alex can do this in, but not now, now-
‘I need you Alex’ he gasps as Alex adds another finger ‘need you in me, need you to be mine.’
‘I’m yours baby, all yours and you’re mine.’
‘Yours’
‘Mine’
Alex crooks his fingers and Henry groans again. He almost wants to start shouting to the heavens just because he can. He can say all matter of debauched things, do all manner of debauched things, and it doesn’t matter. But of course it matters, in a different way entirely. This, here, being with Alex, naked and without inhibition, it matters more than anything else. Every time, without fail, it shrinks the world to a party of two, where they are lost and found in each other.
Alex adds another finger as Henry becomes a cacophony of gasps and moans. He knows he knows many words, has a degree in them for christ’s sake, but Alex has the ability to wipe his mind clean. To leave nothing but fuck and please and need you, leave nothing but the most primal desires of him.
‘Alex please’ he moans ‘I need you to.’
‘Love it when you beg baby’ Alex says, leaning down to kiss him.
Henry lifts his legs around Alex’s waist, Alex lining himself up and pushing in.
‘Oh god’ Henry groans as Alex inches in until they are flush against each other.
‘You feel amazing Hen’ Alex says, wonderstruck.
It is still new, sex without condoms. They had only started going without them after Christmas when they had both got tested, but with everything, they’ve only had the chance to see each other a few times since then. It had been nowhere near enough, it never is, was. They might still be busy people but at least now they got to come home to each other every night.
Henry lets out a groan at the thought, they could do this whenever they wanted now. He would get to wake up beside Alex every day, in their bed. They could exchange slow morning kisses and fuck slowly, the feel of Alex in him, nothing in between.
Henry locks his legs and flips them over, startling a cry out of Alex. Henry sits up, his hands on Alex’s chest and lines himself back up, sinking down onto Alex.
‘We’re home Alex’.
‘Home’ Alex gasps and he pushes up into Henry as Henry sinks down, rocking on Alex.
‘So deep love’ Henry gasps ‘you fill me so perfectly. You’re mine, made for me, made to fill me up, to punch the air out of my lungs with your cock. You’re my home, right here.’
Henry looks down at Alex, his head fallen back, his eyes closed, mouth agape. Alex opens his eyes, meeting Henry’s and he grins, gripping his hips and driving up into him, his fingers surely leaving bruises where he could lie later and kiss them, add to them, their bodies ever changing canvasses of bites and bruises, makes of their love left for each other.
Alex wraps a hand around Henry’s cock, gathering the precum at the tip, easing the slide as his hand flies over him.
‘Fuck, Alex, I’m gonna come.’
‘Come baby, come all over me, paint me, make me yours.’
Henry gasps as he comes, and he barely has a moment to come down before Alex is flipping them onto their sides.
‘This ok, baby?’
‘Yes love, keep going.’
He gathers Henry’s come from his chest, slipping out and pushing the come inside Henry before pushing back in. There’s still come on Alex’s stomach and on Henry’s too, and now it is dripping out of him as Alex plows in and out. It is sticky and messy and euphoric.
‘I love you baby’ Alex says, biting at his earlobe ‘love our home, love making my home right here, in you.’
‘I love you’ Henry gasps, ‘love you so much, you can come Alex, be a good boy and come.’
Alex groans, spasming against his back and Henry reaches back and grabs his hair, pulling him into for a kiss, sloppy and unrefined. Henry feels Alex everywhere, is blanketed by every feeling of it, his lips against his, his body plastered against his, his hair crushed beneath his fingers, and as Alex pulls out, his come, Henry’s come, the lube, all of it dripping out of him.
They’ve lived here for only a few hours, and they’ll already have to change the sheets.
‘You’ll have to show me how to use the washing machine love.’
‘We haven’t got one yet.’ Alex says, his words slow and panting, still catching his breath.
‘Well then it’s a good thing I bought so many sets of sheets.’
Henry rolls onto his back and looks around the empty room.
‘We’re home Alex’ Henry says, just as reverent as before and Alex beams and curls into his side, not caring about the mess. They’ll get up and shower eventually, for now, it is a Herculean feat to leave each other’s arms.
‘I haven’t really felt at home since Austin’ Alex says, Henry’s hands running through his hair and Alex sighs and kisses Henry’s neck, burying his face in there.
‘I haven’t really felt at home for years, not since Dad died’ Henry says, realising he has never voiced this before, yet he knows it is true.
‘And even before, I think, it was Wales that felt the most like home. It wasn’t a palace and there was nowhere there to gawk at us. It was cosy and warm and when we were little, and it was the five of us, I felt loved, I felt safe.’ Henry sighs and kisses Alex’s head ‘thank you for bringing me home, Alex.’
Alex kisses his neck and mumbles into his skin.
‘Backatcha H, it wouldn’t be home without you.’
-----
The tables are set, the fairy lights are strung, there are flowers everywhere. Their wedding looks like something out of Pinterest, out of a fairytale, but Henry has never been fond of those. The guests are assembled, chattering in their seats. It isn’t a big wedding, neither of them had any inclination to invite anyone besides their very nearest and dearest. Henry knows if they’d had a royal wedding they probably could have got David Beckham and Elton John there, there would have been hundreds of guests, and the whole world watching.
But they didn’t want that, they didn’t want a spectacle for the ages, as much as Alex was mourning the thought of his face on souvenir thongs. They just wanted each other, a day to remember that belonged to them.
Henry for so long in his life had no choices at all, and he no longer had any royal obligations. He has lived with Alex for years, has loved him for years. But it is liberating to make these choices for himself, without anyone being able to tell him otherwise, to make these decisions with Alex. Alex, the very best choice he ever made, in the end, it hadn’t been a choice at all, they were kismet.
He is standing here, waiting to walk down the aisle and he has never been so sure, filled with conviction. His heartbeat is steady, since they have got engaged, he envisioned that he would be nervous but there is none of that. He loves Alex, he wants to marry Alex, he wants it as much as he wants his next breath, it is essential to this continued existence and there are no qualms about it, no trepidation or nerves. He knows, he knows this is what he was put on this earth for. He was to find Alex, they were to crash into other’s lives at a quite alarming speed and tumble into love, jagged through the path might have been.
The music starts to play, and Henry feels more than hear the guests rise from their seats. He takes a breath and starts to walk. Up at the top, there stands Bea and Pez, beaming, Bea in resplendent green and Pez in a bright orange.
To the other side, both smiling wide, are Nora in royal blue and June in pale purple. And Alex, good lord his stunning very soon to be husband is grinning right at him, his tears already falling, and Henry realises he is crying too. As he gets to the front he catches his mum’s eye. She is sitting on the aisle, with an empty seat beside her. He hugs her when he reaches her, she is so small in her arms that he has to bend, and she whispers in his ear.
‘He’d be so happy for you Henry, to see you so happy.’
Henry chokes back a sob, pulling away from his mum and squeezing her hand where her rings still sit, will always sit. She had had her one great love for the ages, and now Henry has his.
He reaches Alex then, beaming at him. Alex is wearing a black tux, a red rose in his buttonhole. Henry is in black too, a yellow rose in his lapel. Between the Super Six, they make up the rainbow.
Henry takes Alex’s hands in his, running his thumb over the ring that was his father’s sitting on Alex’s ring finger, soon to be joined by another.
‘Hi love’ Henry says quietly, looking into Alex’s tear strewn eyes, alight with happiness.
‘Hey baby’ Alex whispers back ‘wanna get married?’
‘Well,’ Henry smiles ‘if we must.’
------
They are so tiny. Henry didn’t ever really think about how tiny they would be. So small that he is able to hold both of their heads within his palms. They have been given an empty room, and Henry is sat on the bed, back against the headboard, his knees pulled up, holding the babies in his arms there.
Henry knows love, he loves Alex with a depth he had never known. But this, it is like someone has come along and sewn another heart onto his, like The Doctor, one just to contain his love for his babies, their babies. He has two daughters, they are fathers, he could weep. He does weep.
‘Hi baby girls, I’m your daddy, I’m so happy to meet you. I love you so much, I don’t think you’ll ever really know how much. I never thought I’d have you, not like this. Not with your papa, who is the very best person I know. I love him so much. He’s going to be the best papa-‘
He had known he would have children, it was seen as a duty, an obligation. Henry had pictured having to sleep with a woman, doing what needed to be done, the cruelty of it all, a wife he would never truly love, and he would adore his children, but it would all be tainted. This, science may have helped, the selfless acts of their egg donor and Brittany had been insurmountable. But these girls, they had been made with love. And now here they lie, in his arms, tiny and vulnerable and the most precious thing Henry has ever seen in all his life.
Alex comes around the curtain, holding coffee. He looks as dazed as Henry feels. Henry looks up at him, meets his tired deliriously happy eyes.
‘Alex, we have two babies’ he says in utter awe.
‘I know’ Alex chokes back a wet laugh ‘can you believe it?’
‘No’ Henry says, his tears pooling again but he lets them, how could he not cry?
‘Me neither’ Alex says, sitting down on the bed and kissing Henry.
Alex leans back and runs his hand over the tops of the babies’ heads.
‘Can you believe how much you love them?’ Alex asks softly ‘like isn’t it insane?’
‘I can’t quite fathom it’ Henry agrees ‘can you believe how tiny they are?’
‘So tiny’ Alex says, stretching his hand between them so one baby grasps his thumb and the other his pinkie ‘they don’t feel big enough to be actual humans’.
‘Actual humans that we need to keep alive.’
‘We’ll be alright Hen’ Alex says as one of the girls’ eyes blink open and gaze around and Alex lets out another choked disbelieving laugh ‘we’ve got this.’
Alex leans his head against Henry’s shoulder, moving to sit beside him, pulling his legs up too.
‘So who’s who?’ Alex says.
Henry looks at him before looking back at the girls, the one he is holding to his left is squirming slightly, so Henry has to tighten his hold, Alex’s hand coming to grasp her side.
‘That’s Victoria’ they both say at the same time.
Henry looks at Alex as they both chuckle softly, leaning in to kiss him.
They both look at the baby on the right, her cheek lying against Henry’s knee as she squeezes Alex’s finger.
‘Hi Eleanor’ Henry says softly, Alex quietly echoing his words.
Henry looks to the ceiling, tears pooling in his eyes again. They were dads, he was someone’s dad, two someone’s dad. Henry already knows he would anything in his power to protect them. He would walk across burning coals and swim across oceans, and he will love them just as they are and always let them know it.
He feels Alex’s fingers across his cheek, so soft, wiping away his tears.
‘He’d be so proud of you, you know.’ Alex says, his voice as gentle as his touch.
Henry’s heart flips in his chest. Even after all these years, of Alex being able to read him like a book, he still marvels at it, that Alex just knows. It never stops meaning the whole world to be seen.
‘I miss him’ Henry says, his voice cracking ‘I can’t believe he’s never going to meet our daughters.’
‘We can tell them about all him, they can watch his movies, and we can lie down in the grass together and look for Orion. They’ll always know their Grandpa Arthur.’
‘They’ll know him, but he’ll never know them.’ Henry says, reaching to squeeze Alex’s hand before taking a deep breath. Alex lets the silence lie, the only sounds the breaths of their daughters, the distant beep of machines.
‘I do think’ Henry says eventually ‘when you lose someone, I know since I lost Dad, you see them everywhere. In every song that reminds me of him, any time I hear someone with his accent, or see someone with a similar mannerism, anytime someone orders his favourite meal or drinks his favourite wine. He’s everywhere, every single day, and it hurts, and he may never know the girls, but he’ll be there, I feel like he’s always there.’
‘He’ll always be there baby. They never really leave us, not while we remember them, and enough people knew your dad that he’ll never be forgotten, certainly not by us and not by our family.’
‘Our family’ Henry says, his voice cracking again ‘we have a family.’
‘We’re a family Hen’ Alex says, his own tears falling again ‘you and me. You and me and our girls, can you believe it?’
‘I can’t believe any of it’ Henry says, ‘I don’t think I ever will.’
-----
It’s been a month since the girls’ first birthday and Henry is still finding glitter beneath his feet. He blames Pez entirely who had kept letting off party poppers full of the stuff. Glitter he uncovers everywhere, and yet he can’t find the rice cakes.
Alex had been the one to put the groceries away yesterday and he wasn’t as meticulous as Henry about putting the same things in the same cupboard each time. Alex was very adamant that he had a system that worked but even after all these years of being with Alex, Henry still hasn’t got all his systems down, even as logical as Alex insists they are.
The sun is shining, as it often did in Austin, and they are spending the afternoon in the back yard with all manners of toys, Eleanor’s favourite currently being one of David’s, and Victoria’s the box a dollhouse had come in. At the birthday party the adults had spent more time playing with the toys, while the girls and the other babies in attendance had looked for phones, keys, and packets of wipes.
‘Ju’ shouts a tiny voice and Henry looks to the patio door flung open to the back yard. Alex is holding Victoria, his hand on the back of Eleanor’s head as she toddles in.
Eleanor had surprised them both when at 11 months, when she had gone from not even crawling, preferring to shuffle around on her bum, to walking. She had simply grasped the bookcase in their living room, pulled herself up and off she had gone. Henry’s startled shout from the living room had made Alex almost burn his hand in the kitchen, in a rush to make sure everything was ok.
‘I’m getting your juice sweetie’ Henry says to Eleanor as he bends to pick her up, he notices a piece of glitter on the bottom of her foot and plucks it off ‘I’m just looking for the rice cakes, your papa put away the shopping yesterday and Daddy isn’t sure where anything is.’
‘You’re so dramatic’ Alex says, rolling his eyes.
‘Says you darling’ Henry says as he opens the cupboards one handed.
‘They’re next to the formula’ Alex says, coming to open the cupboard to Henry’s direct right and pulling out the rice cakes.
Alex opens up the packet and hands one to Victoria. He sits her down on the counter, holding onto her as she gnaws at the rice cake, crumbs falling everywhere.
Henry opens the fridge and gets out the juice, pouring it into a sippy cup for Eleanor.
‘Here you go sweetie, Daddy’s got your juice’ Henry says, handing Eleanor the juice where she sits in his arm. He leans in and kisses her head.
Eleanor takes a sip and leaves the cup dangling out of one hand. She looks into Henry’s eyes, pokes him in the cheek and says very clearly.
‘Dada’
Alex gasps from the counter and Henry, stunned, loses all higher brain function, his heart somersaulting in his chest.
‘You’ve never said that before Eleanor’ Henry says, his voice breaking ‘nobody’s ever said that before.’
‘Dada’ Eleanor says again, sounded almost a little annoyed, as if to say ‘yes it is you I mean, catch up.’
‘Yes darling girl, I am your dada. Well done darling, such a clever girl.’
‘Dada’ she says again, nodding, as if to say, ‘yes good, I’m glad you’ve caught up.’
Eleanor resumes drinking her juice and Henry kisses her head again as they all go back into the back yard.
Henry puts Eleanor down on the grass where she toddles over to a toy and soon the air is rent with the beeping sounds of it. Victoria picks up a ball and throws it, crawling to retrieve it, David ambling along beside her, very pleased with this game.
‘You ok babe?’ Alex asks as they sit down on the grass and watch the girls.
‘It really does make a difference when it’s not Victoria talking about David.’
‘You’re her daddy’ Alex says, squeezing Henry’s hand ‘you’re their daddy.’
Henry lets the tears fall, Alex stroking his thumb over the top of Henry’s hand.
‘Tell me what you’re thinking Hen.’
‘I-‘ Henry talks a deep breath as Eleanor toddles over and faceplants onto Henry’s leg. He helps her back up and she toddles over to Victoria, picking up an errant ball and chewing on it.
‘I never ever thought I would have this life, it seemed as inconceivable as flying off on a dragon. I always thought, knew, I would have to marry a woman. We’d have kids because that is what you did. It all felt so heavy and awful and constrictive. A life I had to lead out of duty. And then my dad died, and all of us, we were left alone, with no one to help me feel like there was every any options, any freedom to be had. I stopped dreaming of a life like this at all, because what was the point? It would never happen. And look’ Henry waves his hand to encompass Alex, David, the girls, the house, this giant back yard, their joyous domestic simple glorious life.
‘You did it baby, you got your life.’
‘Our life’ Henry says, choked ‘it’s so beautiful Alex, sometimes I can hardly believe it’.
Alex squeezes his hand.
‘I love you’ Henry says, leaning over to kiss his husband, his hand on Alex’s face.
‘I love you too baby’ Alex says, his hands running into Henry’s hair ‘and I love our life.’
Victoria crawls over and lunges for Alex’s middle. He picks her up and holds her in the air, the bright blue sky background to her grinning face. Henry watches them as Alex brings Victoria down and kisses her on the cheek before hoisting her up again. His heart feels too big for his chest. They are fathers, they have been for over a year and yet it never fails to take his breath away, to remind him of all that he has lost, all he has to gain, and all that he never ever wants to lose.
Victoria crawls over Henry’s legs and back to David who is currently chewing on her favourite cardboard box, before he notices Eleanor is holding his toy and diverts for that instead. Eleanor pets him but keeps a firm grip on his toy. Henry shifts until his head is on Alex’s shoulder and he speaks quietly, the words feeling fragile and prone to breaking.
‘I think he knew’ Henry says, ‘my dad. I think he knew I was gay, and he didn’t care. I always felt so assured that he loved me just as I was. I miss him with an ache, and being a dad, our baby girl calling me dada, it makes it all more poignant. It brings it all into relief. He was my dad, he’ll always be my dad, and now I’m their dad. It makes me miss him all the more.’
Alex squeezes his side, finds the dip of Henry’s waist, his favourite spot.
‘I’m so glad I had him though, even if it wasn’t for long enough, even though he’s missing all of this. He was the best dad.’
‘What a way to remember him Hen’ Alex says, his thumb rubbing circles in his side ‘by being the best dad too.’