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The first time Henry’s life had crossed paths with Alex Claremont-Diaz’s had been many lifetimes ago.
Alex had been so bright and vibrant and so full of life that Henry felt like he had no choice but to notice him in the crowd that had gathered close to the convenience store at the corner, as he left his office. Alex was a part of a bigger group of what Henry could only guess were college students, or perhaps even tourists of some kind, his lips pulled into a wide grin as his laughter rang clearly through the streets.
The sight of him had made Henry stop in his step, in the middle of downtown New York. He felt others bump into him in their rush to get to their buses or the subway, could feel the irritated glares sent his way and he hadn’t missed the many expletives that were directed at him, either. But it didn’t matter, because his eyes hadn't been able to leave the frame of the man whose existence made Henry's world brighter.
But they didn’t speak. Henry watched him closely for a few moments before he with difficulty turned around and continued his walk to the subway station. As he went down the stairs into the underground, Henry hadn't been able to stop himself from hoping that he might run into the man again. Maybe he would even have the courage to go up to him and talk to him, maybe ask him for his number as well.
But as life would have it, in that lifetime, they didn’t run into each other again.
Henry’s memories come back to him when he was 21.
One would think it would feel like a big deal, almost like it should be celebrated with an event, like a birthday or a coming-of-age ceremony, because shouldn’t it turn your world on its axis when you suddenly remember moments and situations and other lives you’ve lived through? But to Henry, it feels as easy as breathing, when his head is suddenly flooded with noises and smells and feelings that somehow feel very familiar but also very far away.
Because Henry is doing someone incredibly mundane when it happens; he's standing in the line of a coffee shop far away from home when his past lives come back to him in waves. Henry just knows that the man in front of him, taking his order - curly hair, tanned fair skin, and brown warm eyes - is the sole reason it's happening. Because he remembers him, the vibrance of him, and the way he looked so alive in the middle of New York City.
He’s still as beautiful as he was back then and Henry’s stomach swoops.
“It’s you,” Henry says without thinking, making the man in front of him raise his eyebrows.
“Do we know each other?” he asks, his voice evoking a shudder through Henry’s body that he hopes isn’t noticeable.
The familiar feeling of anxiety starts to bloom in his chest, as Henry realizes that the man in front of him doesn’t seem to remember him. Because he would feel the connection too if he recognized Henry, wouldn’t he? But then again, why would he remember Henry? He and Henry never interacted in their last lifetime, Henry only watched him from afar like a creep. Henry's throat feels dry and he can feel his lips pinch as he smiles tightly. “Ah, sorry, I must’ve mistaken you for someone else.”
“Seems that way,” the man answers with a smirk, confirming what Henry already knew, that the man doesn't remember him. “So, what will it be today?”
“Earl-grey, please,” Henry answers, and the man in front of him laughs softly. It’s as beautiful as he remembers it, maybe even more beautiful up close like this.
“Tea, huh? Should’ve expected it from your accent,” the man comments and rolls his eyes good-heartedly. “Tea is just hot flavored water wishing it was coffee.”
Henry laughs at that, caught off guard by the comment, and it earns him a stunning smile from the cashier. His chest feels warm and tight and Henry never wants this feeling to go away.
The man in front of him grabs a cup and a pen, and Henry feels the breath leave his lungs when their eyes meet. “What's the name?”
“Henry,” he says and watches as the cashier writes his name down in big and loopy characters. Henry lets his eyes go down to the name tag on the man’s uniform, the name Alexander written in italicized black letters on a clear metallic plate.
Alexander. Alex.
“Well, then Henry, a wannabe coffee coming up,” The man - Alex - smiles at him and Henry just nods as he pays for his beverage. He moves along the queue, following Alex’s frame in the corner of his eye as he moves on to help the next customer in line. It isn’t long before Henry’s name is called and he has a hot takeaway cup in his hands. Before he moves out of the coffee shop he sends one last glance back at Alex, who doesn't seem to notice Henry's gaze on him, as Henry desperately tries to memorize his features.
Bea is outside waiting for him, her nose red from the cold. She pockets her phone the moment Henry comes up to her. “Finally.”
“Sorry for the wait.”
“It’s fine, I’m just happy you got your tea,” Bea laughs softly and Henry smiles back, but it feels a little forced. Bea knows him so well, so of course, she notices, a look of concern taking over her face. “What’s wrong?”
Knowing there’s no way to hide from his prying sister, Henry looks down at the asphalt beneath his shoes, kicking softly at a lone pebble. “The cashier was very nice.”
Bea can read between the lines, and he notices how she peeks in through the window. “The curly-haired guy? He looks just your type, Hen.”
Henry feels the lump in his throat again, but he wills it down. “Yeah.”
Bea’s hand comes up on his shoulder, steadying him, and Henry lets his eyes leave the ground to look into her warm blue ones. “It’ll be fine, Henry. Just because we leave for England tomorrow doesn’t mean you won’t see each other again.”
Henry nods and smiles at her, but the smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes. If Bea notices, she doesn’t comment.
When they walk away from the coffee shop a moment later, Henry can already tell that he won’t cross paths with Alex again in this life.
In yet another lifetime, Henry’s memories of Alex come back to him in a low-lit lecture hall just before 7 AM.
Henry had picked the class before he checked at what time of the day the lessons ran, and he found himself really regretting not checking, with the way his insomnia had been in the way of him getting any sleep the day before. Dragging himself out of his shoebox of an apartment this morning had been difficult enough, he had no idea how he would be able to stay awake through the lecture.
But then again, the class only went for a few weeks though, so Henry guessed he just had to find a way to deal with the early mornings.
There was only one other person in the lecture hall when he arrived, slouched in one of the back rows. His seating position was nothing but awful, but the sight of him far made up for it.
The very same moment the man noticed him, Henry’s mind lit up with his name and he could feel a new, but very much familiar, tingling in his stomach.
“I didn’t know this class was at 7 am,” Alex says, his voice rough with sleep and Henry suddenly feels lightheaded. “I mean, this class sounds very interesting and I’m very into it, but how do they expect college students to function this early in the fucking morning?”
“Yeah, that’s a question I have as well,” Henry replies dumbly, his tongue dry in his mouth. Alex smirks at him and he’s vibrant.
“Oh, you from the other side of the ocean?” Alex asks and Henry just nods and smiles back. “Well, my dear colonizer, I came as prepared as he could.”
Henry is just about to ask what he means when the loud thud of Alex putting down a thermos with coffee on the desk in front of him echoes throughout the almostempty lecture hall. Alex follows that by taking out a can of Red Bull from his bag, sending Henry a cheeky smile.
Alex must see Henry’s confusion though because he winks and says, “watch this” before he does the absolute most chaotic thing Henry swears he has ever seen.
Alex opens up the can of RedBull expertly before he opens up the thermos and pours the carbonated liquid into the coffee. Henry feels speechless as he watches Alex close the thermos, giving it a shake or two to blend the contents together.
“What the fuck, ” Henry voices in shock, and from where he stands he can see the way Alex’s eyes crinkle in amusement. “You’re going to die .”
“Guess we’re about to find out, sweetheart,” Alex replies cheekily, and Henry doesn’t know if the sweeping feeling low in his gut comes from the pet name that so easily slipped from Alex's perfect mouth or from the feels that Alex might actually collapse in this very class very, very soon as he puts the thermos against his mouth and takes a huge chug.
Alex makes a face as he swallows, putting the thermos down on the desk again. “It tastes like shit, but I bet it does the trick.”
Henry laughs, bewildered and amused, and - despite this being the very first time he has stumbled across Alex in this lifetime - already so very, very smitten. Alex mirrors his smile with one of his own and a moment of comfortable silence passes by before more students start to come into the lecture hall.
The seat next to Alex is empty, so Henry goes to sit down, pulling his laptop out of his backpack before putting it down next to the desk. He feels Alex’s brown eyes follow his every move, and when he turns towards him a few moments later, they make eye contact.
Alex is far more beautiful up close, with soft lips and long eyelashes and hair that falls down over his forehead that Henry has to force himself not to push back behind his ear. Henry searches his face for a moment, but just as in their last encounter in the coffee shop a lifetime prior, he finds no signs of recognition in his eyes.
In an effort not to dwell on the disappointment he feels, Henry puts his hand out for Alex and says, “I’m Henry.”
“Alex,” the other man says, taking his hand firmly and giving it a shake. It feels like electricity runs through Henry’s veins when they touch, but if Alex feels the same sensation, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he just lets Henry's hand go and goes to grab another swig of the god-awful coffee beverage he just made.
Alex is there in class the next week and the week after that. Sometimes the seat next to him is taken when Henry gets there, so he sits closer to the front of the lecture hall, but most of the time Henry gets to the seat next to him first. He is usually greeted by a nod from Alex before he starts on what Henry is sure isn’t Alex’s first coffee of the day.
Henry quickly learns that Alex is smart and eager to both answer and ask questions to the professor. He’s good at talking - almost too good, considering just how much Henry can tell that Alex literally cannot shut up. But Alex knows how to argue his point and how to explain his point of view on a variety of different topics and subjects. It’s hypnotizing, watching him and Henry can feel himself falling further for him.
But one day, it all stops.
Alex doesn’t show up to class and Henry knows he looks just as lost as he feels when he sits down in the same seat as usual. Maybe Alex just overslept, or went to get another coffee and got stuck in an insanely long queue or something. But despite waiting for the doors to the lecture hall to open even after the professor has started the lesson, Alex doesn’t show up.
The next week, Henry overhears another student talking, just after another lecture has ended, still with no trace of Alex.
“I think he turned in the final assignment already, I heard him talk to the professor about it,” the student says, twirling a piece of her blond hair around her finger absentmindedly. “Something about him needing to focus on other classes, but wanting to get a grade in this one.”
“You can do that?” Another student asks surprised, just as Henry drags the zipper of his backpack shut.
“I don’t know, I guess so? He doesn’t seem the type to just drop a class.”
Henry passes them by on his way to the exit, the last thing he hears is the other student’s reply, “I guess so.”
Alex hasn't vanished off the earth; sometimes Henry’s eyes fall on him when he sits in the library with his head buried in a book or when he’s walking across campus with his lacrosse team. They greet each other when they pass by each other, but nothing more than “hellos” and a wave.
The years pass by. Alex graduates and so does Henry.
They never run into each other again.
Henry knows it’s Alex despite the flashing lights making it hard to see on the dancefloor.
Alex’s dressed in a fitted shirt and leather pants, his curly hair falling around his face entrancingly as he dances to the mo some girl. He looks absolutely stunning and devourable, and Henry has to force his feet not to walk toward him and do something dangerous, like press up close against his fit body.
“Hazza,” Pez voices next to him, handing him a plastic cup that without a doubt is filled with vodka. “Which lovely person have you looking like pining Mr. Darcy in neon lights?”
“No one,” Henry says and forces his eyes away from Alex’s dancing form on the dancefloor. He hasn’t told Pez about Alex - because he literally didn't know about him until mere moments ago. And it would be a very bad idea to try to explain to his best friend that oh yeah, I run into Alex in every single life I live, and when I do I remember everything about him, like the way his voice sounds and the way his smile makes me feel and how much I wish he was mine.
Henry isn't drunk or sober enough for that conversation.
Unfortunately, Pez knows him too well and sends him a look of disbelief, but doesn’t pry any further, which Henry finds that he’s thankful for. But Pez is also perceptive as fuck and he easily follows Henry’s line of sight, now that his own eyes have betrayed him and once again trailed over to Alex on the dance floor. Pez whistles impressively. “Curly-head, huh? Totally your type.”
Henry nods, not bothering to correct Pez, mostly because there’s nothing to correct, as his friend is absolutely right.
Henry doesn’t know if he necessarily had a type before he met Alex all those lifetimes ago, but now, he finds himself drawn to men with tan skin and curls that remind him of Alex. Even before these memories flooded into his veins, it was like his body just knew what it wanted.
“What are you waiting for then, sweet prince?” Pez asks loudly so that he’s heard over the music. “Ask him to dance!”
Before Henry can reply Pez suddenly gives him a push into the crowd, a bit of the vodka in his cup sloshing out onto the floor and on his shoes. When he turns around to send Pez his most exasperated look, his best friend only sends him a wink, before he leaves towards the bar again.
The crowd is dense and it’s way too hot; Henry can already feel his shirt stick to his skin as he ventures further into the center of the dance floor, in between swaying bodies and couples grinding against each other. Before he can even register it, he’s so close to Alex that he can hear his laughter clearly and feel warmth radiate from his body.
Henry can’t take his eyes off him and Alex must feel it because he turns his face towards him. Henry knows he’s good-looking, but nothing has made his body burn quite like watching Alex checking him out, his eyes trailing up and down his body, his lips pulling into an approving smirk.
The girl Alex was dancing with gets his attention for a few moments, to tell him that she’s going to dance with another girl, and Alex only nods, clearly distracted. The woman rolls her eyes and disappears into the crowd, and Alex's eyes find Henry's again.
“Do you wanna dance?” Alex asks and Henry nods despite already feeling the excuses burn in his throat.
“With you? Anytime,” Henry says, earning himself a bright smile from Alex. “But I’m terrible at it, just a head’s up.”
“I can show you some moves, sweetheart,” Alex winks, winks, and pulls Henry closer by the wrist. The touch sends sparks down his spine and Henry shivers despite it being close to boiling in the middle of the crowd. Henry downs the last of his vodka for some liquid courage, the alcohol burning nicely down his throat. He finds Alex’s eyes follow the movements of his throat as he swallows.
Being so close to Alex is intoxicating; he’s a good dancer, helping Henry out when he starts awkwardly swaying to the music, and soon enough it’s downright filthy. Their hips are rolling against each other, and Alex's hand curls into the bottom of Henry’s hair, pulling at the blond strand. Henry can feel his jeans getting tighter as his body responds to the proximity of Alex, the feel of him so close.
Without thinking too hard about it, Henry moves to place his lips against Alex’s neck, sucking bruises onto the soft skin. The sound of Alex’s moans is like liquid fire in his veins and when their hips crash together Henry can feel Alex getting hard as well.
“Want to go to a more secluded place?” Alex asks into his ear a few moments later and Herny feels goosebumps erupt all over. In lieu of a reply, Henry just presses their lips together again, kissing Alex hungrily. He swipes his tongue over his lips and is without a moment’s hesitation granted access to the inside of Alex’s mouth. Their tongues slide together before Henry pulls back to take Alex’s bottom lip in between his teeth, biting down gently, earning him a whimper from low in Alex's throat.
They won't let go of each other as they stumble their way from the dance floor. They definitely get some angry looks sent their way, as they accidentally bump into other club-goers in their task to leave a densely populated area without pulling their lips other, but Henry can’t really bring himself to care, as he finally has Alex in his arms.
One of the bathroom stalls is free and they close and lock the door behind them. If he didn’t have his arms full of Alex, Henry might’ve complained about the absolute lack of hygiene in this stall, but it’s difficult to think of much else when Alex suddenly sinks down onto his knees in front of him, his hands running up and down his thighs.
“I really fucking want to blow you, sweetheart,” Alex says lowly, looking up at Henry from where he’s seated on his knees on the bathroom floor. “You’re so fucking hot and I really want your dick in my mouth."
“Yes, yes, please blow me,” Henry whines and he’s awarded by Alex popping the button off his jeans and releasing his erection from the confines of his underwear.
Alex is efficient and excellent at giving head; he adds just the perfect amount of suction, while he hollows his cheeks and lets his tongue run all over the heated flesh. His hands are sometimes added into the mix, jerking him off, but other times Alex just lets his hands run all over Henry’s body as if he wants to remember the feel of his skin and map his stomach and chest.
It doesn’t take long until Henry comes into Alex’s mouth, with his hands curled into brown curls that are just as soft to touch as they look. Alex barely has enough time to stand up before Henry hauls him up into a heated kiss, moaning at the taste of himself on Alex’s tongue.
Alex is a bit dazed from the kiss when Henry sinks down on his knees to return the favor, and it’s not long before Alex is a gasping mess above him. Henry knows he’s good at this and that the thing he does with his tongue especially has gotten good reviews before. But no other encounter has been as satisfying as this, as he watches Alex fall apart above him and in his mouth.
Afterward, they share a kiss, slow and sweet, as they make themselves decent. Alex sends Henry one last smile and a "thanks", before he disappears back into the club, to continue on about his night.
Henry smiles wistfully and leans back against the wall of the bathroom stall. Despite hoping for it, he has a feeling this will be his only encounter with Alex in this life, yet again.
But it hurts more though than it ever did before. Because now he’s got a taste of what it’s like to have Alex and the loss is like a physical ache in his chest.
In other lifetimes, Henry meets Alex at the grocery store when they reach for the same package of cookies, at the flower store when he goes to buy flowers for Bea when she’s hospitalized from a relapse, and in a soccer match in high school when they’re on rival teams.
But no matter how they met, it always ends the same; with Henry and Alex's paths dividing somewhere along the road, never to cross again.
Henry never stops thinking about him once his memories come back though, even as his life passes by. In some lives, he finds someone to spend his life with, in other lives he’s just a temporary person in between the sheets of people long forgotten and some lives end before they even really can start. Alex is the only constant thing in them all, even if the role he plays in Henry's life always is fleeting and unsatisfyingly short.
But with the memories of Alex, comes the unavoidable question; why does Henry remember him when Alex never seems to recognize him? Out of curiosity one night, Henry finds a study published in a scientific journal where the researcher talks about the power of love - that when you fall in love with your soulmate, you will always remember them, even in the lives after this one. The public makes fun of the paper and the researcher and calls it bullshit, and Henry has stumbled upon enough articles in the press to know about the harassment the researcher gets on daily because of the study.
But Henry’s sure that must be the explanation for what he experiences, it just feels right, like it actually could be true. Alex has always been special to him, and Henry’s sure he fell in love with him at first glance in the middle of Manhattan quite a few lifetimes ago. It just makes sense.
Henry should know by now that he and Alex just aren’t meant to be. If they were, wouldn’t Alex remember him by now? Wouldn’t he be aching for Henry, just as Henry aches for him? If it’s true that Henry remembers Alex because he’s in love with him, shouldn’t Alex have fallen for him by now, in any of the many lifetimes where they’ve at one point or another been a part of each other's life, no matter how quickly it passed by? Henry has spent hours in multiple lifetimes grieving what never was, and even if Henry lives through both bad lives and good lives, the sadness and loss of Alexander Claremont-Diaz is always there, an as big part of him as he himself is.
Each time Alex walks out of his life, he promises not to let him in again. To not let his guard down.
But he always does.
And Henry already knows that he always will.
The lifetime that changes the course of Henry’s fate so far is one that starts out his darkest; while he had a hard time being accepted by his family in most of his lives, it’s nothing compared to what this one: because in this life, Henry is closeted, but also an heir to the English throne, with a birthright of producing heirs.
It’s like Henry’s entire life is decided over his head, by people who couldn’t care less about who he is or what he wants to be. He’s a prince of England, he’s to marry a woman and have kids - what he thinks about it doesn’t matter. He's only a pawn in his grandma's game, that he could never dream of getting control over.
The meeting with Alex this time happens in Rio, at the Olympics. Alex is as stunning as always, as alive and burning and bright as he always is, to the point that Henry wants nothing more than to reach out to him, to hold him.
But the familiar, exciting weight of meeting Alex that he usually feels is now replaced by the ache of knowing that Henry in this life will never be allowed to have him. In the other lifetimes, it was that he didn't get the chance. Now, Henry’s the crown prince, with one clear mission in life and he would never be allowed to even touch Alex the way he wants to, even if somehow fate would align this time.
So when Alex goes to introduce himself, Henry asks him to be led away. It’s a way to protect himself, to protect Alex from what it would mean to be associated with the mess that he is. He figures this will be the only time Henry’s path will cross with Alex; that’s what it’s always been, that’s what it always will be.
Until it isn’t. Until Alex is there, at Philip’s wedding, arguing with him about something or other. Until both of them tumble down onto the way-too-expensive cake, the lights from cameras burning off all around them. Until they find themselves pretending to be friends, only to become friends, only to become something more as Alex pulls Henry up on the desk in the red room. Until they make ridiculous excuses to see each other and fly over the world, if only for an hour by the other's side, usually spent in between white linen sheets. Until Henry runs away from the lakehouse thinking it's over, only for Alex to come to Kensington, calling him an fucking obtuse asshole, before they finally make up. Until the mails leak and both of them are outed to the world. Until Henry and Alex decide to fight for it, to not deny their relationship but to confirm it to the world. Until Henry presents Alex with a key to the Brownstone and a promise of a future together.
It’s one night years down the line when they are curled up against each other in their bed that Alex looks up at him softly, pressing a kiss against the stubble on Henry’s jaw, and says the words Henry has longed to hear for so long; “It feels like I’ve met you before, like in another life.”
Alex looks very concerned when Henry’s eyes fill with liquid, and he hugs Henry tightly when Henry wraps himself around Alex to sob into his neck. He can’t explain all he feels to Alex, can’t explain how many times he’s wished for Alex to feel the familiarity of it all, so instead he calls Alex “sappy” and Alex calls him “sweetheart” and kisses him all over his face and tells him that he loves, loves, loves him.
It turns into a life that Henry has wanted for so long, a life he never thought he would get. It’s a long and happy life, that Henry spends with Alex by his side.
It’s almost midnight and Henry is going insane.
He has an important meeting tomorrow and he needs to sleep to actually be representable at it, but his neighbor has decided that 11:51 PM is the perfect time out of the day's 24 hours to blast hip-hop songs.
Henry is usually very quiet and has learned from his grandma to not argue and to not say his opinion. But he’s already nervous about this goddamn meeting, it’s in the middle of the fucking night and his neighbor obviously lacks any trace of manners. Before he knows it, he’s outside his neighbor's door, banging loudly on the surface. There is a decrease in volume immediately and the sound of footsteps getting closer to the door. Henry prepares to let his frustration out on his music-loving, no-sympathy-for-anyone-else neighbor when the door opens and the memories flood back in.
The words die in his throat as Alex appears in front of him, the loud music and the upcoming meeting completely forgotten as he stares at his neighbor. Henry’s heart starts thumping loudly in his chest when there is a flicker of recognition in Alex’s eyes.
Alex smiles, and Henry lets out a sob because Alex remembers. “Hello, Henry.”
“Hello, Alex,” he voices out, and they share a laugh of disbelief before Alex pulls him into an embrace that feels like home.
The relief Henry feels is enormous and he cries with his face pressed into Alex’s neck. Alex’s hands are drawing circles on his back, soothing him, as he presses kisses on top of Henry’s hair.
After a moment, Alex pulls Henry away from the crook of his neck, so their eyes can meet. Alex smiles happily, pressing a soft open-mouth kiss to the corner of his lips and Henry chokes out, “I finally found you.”
Alex laughs softly, pressing another kiss to the same spot. “I’m here, baby. I’m here.”
Their lips meet in a soft collision, and Henry’s heart soars. After so long, he knows that he will no longer be alone; they will find each other.
In every world and in every lifetime after this.