Chapter Text
Alex Claremont-Diaz knows he’s straight. The earth is round, the sun rises in the east, and he’s straight.
It doesn’t matter that his palms feel sweaty when he looks at his dad’s best friend for a little too long– Raf is, like, objectively attractive. It doesn’t matter that his eyes linger on the boys in the locker room after they’ve played the field. It doesn’t matter that he’d felt sad when he’d realised that he wouldn’t be seeing his high school professor after he’d graduated– he simply craved the validation that came with the compliments on his school work, that’s all.
So, what if his sister looks at him calculatingly when Raf is around? June doesn’t know what she’s talking about. It doesn't mean anything. So, what if his best friend teases him when there’s an attractive man around? Nora is a pain in his ass, anyway; she lives to torment him. It doesn’t mean anything.
It doesn’t mean anything, or so he thought. It didn’t mean anything until Henry goddamn Fox had stepped into his life with those ridiculously plush lips and his stupid, perfect blond hair and changed it for the better.
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Meeting Henry had been a complete coincidence.
Alex had no business running into him, not at first. Not when their paths were never really destined to cross again– Henry was in the last year of his Masters in English Literature degree, having taken a gap year, and Alex was in the second year of his law school. Alex had kept a track of him, that slimy motherfucker.
It was three months into his second year, Alex remembers. He was a fresh-faced student, cheeks flushed with anticipation of the new semester, breathless with the anxiety he’d felt.
Even at twenty-four, it’d been difficult for him to slip into routines, especially when he is so far from home. NYU has been his dream ever since he could remember, really, and being here is just as surreal as he'd thought it'd feel when he was little. He has high hopes, and life has yet to snatch it out of his hands. He holds onto that hope tightly with desperate fists, not willing to let it slip from between his fingertips, the dream of changing people's lives making him feel like he had a damn purpose.
Saying that, it's not as if he isn't struggling. His ADHD makes settling into a new environment difficult, and no matter how hard he tries, there’s just something that feels a little off. A part of him knows it’s his social life that makes things harder.
It's not as if he doesn't have any friends. He does. He really does. He meets people for coffee regularly, he has joined study groups so that he could focus on his work better, and he’s at a party every fucking night. It's just... his friends, they’re all superficial, he thinks.
He loves his friends, he does, he just doesn't have a meaningful connection with any of them and a part of him wants to say fuck it and cut them off because it's exhausting, trying to maintain these friendships, but he knows that he'll drown in a sea of deep dread if he does, so he holds onto them. He doesn’t want to, but he needs to.
He's so close to ruining it all when he runs into him again. Henry Fox.
Henry. God. Alex doesn't even know where to begin with him. He's been a big part of Alex's life, even though it doesn't feel like it. Even though Henry wouldn’t think so.
Alex had met him when he was fourteen.
They'd been freshmen, faces riddled with acne. He remembers how Henry had shuffled into his classroom with those awkwardly long limbs and flushed cheeks, shifting on his feet as the teacher had introduced him to the class. Henry’s family had just moved to Texas from London, and Alex remembers how he had to repeat a year of school, putting him into the same year as Alex, even though Henry was older.
He remembers the funny feeling in his stomach when he'd first set sights on him. Remembers pushing it down. He remembers how he hadn't let himself feel that ever again. Not until now.
He also remembers how Henry's eyes had widened when he'd looked at Alex back then, his cheeks darkening. He remembers how he'd dropped into the chair next to Alex, biting his lip, eyes cast downward after he'd introduced himself to everyone.
Oh, Alex remembers thinking. He's shy.
And, well, Alex was never the one to resist a challenge, or to back down. So, he had made it his life mission to befriend the new boy in class, snatching him away before anyone else in his year had the chance to.
The way he went about it all is a little embarrassing now that he thinks about it, but he's not going to dwell on the past. He's still slightly mad he hadn't ever quite managed to rise to the best friend title, but that's alright. Henry was special to him. Alex doesn't think anyone could ever take his place.
He misses him. Alex hasn't seen Henry in months now. He has a feeling that he's been purposefully dogging Alex's calls, that fucker. Alex gets it. He can be too much sometimes. Too loud. Too brash. Too eager. Just, too much. It's a shame because he’d never once felt like that around Henry, but it seems like he'd been wrong. It hurts more than he thought it ever would.
He can't help it though. He misses Henry so much that a part of him thinks he's dreamt him up when Alex walks into a coffee shop that’s a few minutes away from his campus and watches a blond man place his order at the counter. Alex's breath catches in his throat. He'd recognise the set of those broad shoulders anywhere.
An early grey, please, Alex imagines him saying, his idiotically posh voice curling around the vowels.
The man is facing away from Alex, sure, but his hair is the same exact shade as Henry's is, and the way it's glinting in sunlight just ensures his belief that it's him. Henry Fox. In the flesh. In New York.
Then, once he’s done paying, the man turns around and Alex feels vindicated because goddamn it, it is Henry. His Henry. He looks as gorgeous as ever, and Alex doesn’t know what to fucking do with himself.
He doesn't think before he moves. All he knows is that Henry has shifted along to wait for his drink by the counter, and Alex needs to catch him before he slips away again. Even though the cafe is fairly empty, Alex can’t stop himself from how he sidles up to Henry, so close that he can feel the heat of his back against his own chest.
“Henry,” Alex breathes, curling his fists so he doesn’t lay his hand over the perfect dip of Henry’s waist.
They aren’t strangers to touching– it’s Alex’s love language, after all. It’s just… he doesn’t know where he stands with Henry anymore. Not since he’s been trying to ghost Alex.
Henry startles, and Alex feels guilty, just for a second. It’s surprising when Alex doesn’t feel the anger coursing through his veins like he thought he would once he faces Henry again. No, he just feels restless, like there are a million bees under his skin, fighting to escape. He’s buzzing with anticipation, and he decides against the coffee, backing Henry against the counter instead. There’s still some space between them, and he watches Henry gauge the distance, his eyes wide.
“Alex,” Henry murmurs, cheeks scarlet. “What? You… you’re here.”
Alex has an insane urge to laugh. Instead, he takes a deep breath in, forcing himself to take a step back. Watches how Henry relaxes a bit, and he feels that hurt from before curl around his heart and make home there. So, even touching Alex is too much now?
“I’m here,” Alex chuckles, but it feels more mocking than he’d intended it to sound. “At NYU? My dream school that I’ve talked about since we’ve known each other?”
Henry tongue darts out to lick his lips nervously, and Alex can’t help how his eyes dip to track the movement. He resists tugging at the collar of his t-shirt because the cafe feels hotter than it had just a minute ago.
“I always knew you’d get in, Alex,” Henry says softly, pulling the sleeve of his sweater over his left palm. “I never doubted you, even for a second.”
Alex melts. He doesn’t show it. Can’t.
“Thanks,” Alex says. Then, since he has never been the one to be tactful, “You’ve been ghosting me.”
“Ah,” Henry winces, his eyebrows furrowing. “That.”
“Yeah, that.”
“Alex, It’s nothing per-”
Alex cuts him off with a scoff. “If you’re going to say it’s nothing personal, I will literally snatch your tea when it’s served and dump it all over you.”
“I don’t know what else you want me to say,” Henry shrugs helplessly.
Alex feels the anger that he’d expected earlier rising up within him.
“What I want, Henry,” Alex snarls, stepping close, “is for you to tell me why you’re trying to end a decade old friendship by cutting me out instead of having a conversation about it.”
Henry pulls a deep breath in, and Alex watches how his chest rises with the weight of it. He feels absolutely nothing about it. Not even when Henry reaches out to wrap his hand around Alex’s wrist to hold him in place, his blue eyes pleading.
“Alex, please. I don’t want to cut you out of my life,” Henry says. “I was just going through something I had to work through, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that. Trust me, you’re one of my closest friends, and I don’t want to lose you.”
“You have a funny way of showing it,” Alex retorts. Softens when Henry has to lock his jaw to stop his lip from trembling. “Is everything okay, sweetheart?”
There’s that blush on Henry’s cheeks again, paired with that funny feeling in Alex’s stomach.
“Everything is fine,” Henry promises, but Alex doesn’t believe it, not for a moment. “I just. Uh, I needed space.”
“Space. From me?” Alex asks, hating how small his voice sounds.
He’s giving too much of himself away– he can see that from how Henry’s eyebrows crinkle in concern. Just as Henry opens his mouth to say something, the barista calls out his name, setting his tea on the counter. Henry takes it with a polite smile, nodding in thanks. Then, he drags Alex over to the tables, his grip from around Alex’s wrist never letting up.
“In you go,” Henry murmurs, nudging him into a booth. “Don’t move. I’ll be back.”
Well, it’s not as if Alex has anywhere to be.
He’s a mess of emotions, truthfully. Seeing Henry again is as nerve-wracking as it is exciting. Alex hasn’t stopped thinking about him since he last spoke to him. He thought he'd ruined everything. Now, he’s not so sure.
Alex sits there, chin resting on his palm, looking out of the window, people watching. There’s just something about it that helps him relax, and he needs to be calm to have this conversation with Henry. If he hasn’t ruined everything, it means they still have a chance to make it right. Alex wants to set everything right– he’s never felt as comfortable to be himself as he does with Henry. He misses it, being himself without having to dial back his personality.
He’s pulled from his thoughts when Henry sets a steaming mug of hot chocolate in front of him along with a slice of chocolate cake. The smell of cinnamon wafts in the air, and Alex’s breath catches in his throat.
“There’s cinnamon in this,” Alex says, voice low, eyes fixed on Henry’s face.
Henry worries his lip, anxious. Then, he says, “you’ve always liked cinnamon in your drinks.”
Alex doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t feel anything about the fact that Henry had specifically asked the barista to add in some cinnamon to his drink just because that’s always how he’s taken them. He doesn’t feel seen, and he especially doesn’t feel cared for, like, at all.
Except, he does.
When Alex doesn’t say anything, Henry reaches out across the table to tentatively wrap his elegantly long fingers around Alex’s hand again. His thumb rests on the knob of Alex’s wrist, and he swipes it over Alex’s skin, almost absentmindedly. Alex can’t think of anything else, revelling in the feeling of Henry touching him again.
“Love,” Henry starts, voice sincere. “I have never needed space from you. I needed space from some… emotions I was feeling, and I’m so sorry I didn’t stop to think about how that would make you feel. Truly, it was nothing to do with you, I promise. If I haven’t thrown our friendship out of the window, I would want nothing more than to go back to how things were before. I mean it.”
Alex latches onto his words, taking them in. He has so many questions about these emotions and what they are, but Henry’s shoulders are drawn up to his ears and he looks defensive and knowing him, he’d bolt as soon as Alex questions him on it. So, he doesn’t. There will be time for that later. Alex will ask him about his feelings and the weight of them and why they were so worrisome that Henry basically cut all ties with him, but he knows that he can't do that now.
Alex leans back in his booth, wrapping his hands around the mug. The heat seeping into his skin helps to ground him, and he smiles as he tangles his legs with Henry’s under the table.
Henry has always been different for Alex. Nobody can replace him. So, why even try?
“I’d love that,” Alex grins, especially when Henry squeezes his wrist, his thumb digging into Alex’s bone.
Alex knows he’s made the right choice to not further question Henry about his emotions when he lets out a breathy laugh, relaxing against the booth. His posture is still impeccable, not a hair out of place, but he looks carefree in such a way that it makes something in Alex’s chest jolt.
Henry’s smile is gorgeous. Alex’s questions can wait.
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Things go back to how they were, except they’re more disgustingly codependent than they ever were before.
Henry’s stint hadn’t lasted that long– a year at best. Alex had known he’d gotten into NYU because he’d stalked Henry on Instagram. He’d thought about going over to Henry’s dorm to demand some answers thousands of times, but the look in Henry’s eye when he’d said goodbye to Alex after he’d stayed over just before Alex had found out he’d gotten into law school had haunted him for ages. There was just something about it that had left Alex feeling bereft, had made him feel like he wasn’t wanted anymore.
Alex always knew that Henry was around, but he never dared to hope to ever see him again. He had never dared to reach out to Henry physically because he was terrified of looking at that look of picture-perfect devastation in Henry’s eyes. He couldn’t have seen it again, not if he could avoid it. That hadn't stopped him from spamming Henry with texts and calls, even when he thought Henry hated him.
Now, months later, he wonders if he’d made all that shit up.
Things are so… easy between Henry and him that he catches himself thinking if they were ever apart. They were damn close to it, but they’d never been best friends back then. Now, Alex doesn’t know what else to call them except that.
Their dorms are minutes apart, Henry’s building right next to his. He spends more time in Henry’s room than he does in his own. He spends countless hours in the library, Henry right by his side as he reminds Alex to take necessary breaks when he gets too into the zone. They get dinner together. He’s Alex’s best friend.
Easing into a routine is easier with Henry by his side. The panic doesn’t come as frequently; the feeling of loneliness isn’t as recurrent. Alex thinks he’d be so lost without Henry. He had been over the past year, in a way.
A part of him desperately wants to ask Henry about those feelings that had led him to cut Alex out of his life, even if it was for a little bit of time. Another part of him doesn't want to bring it up because things between them are perfect right now and he doesn’t want to ruin it by saying anything he shouldn’t.
Still, he wonders. He wonders if things would’ve been this easy even if they hadn’t fallen out of touch, no matter how briefly. He wonders and he suffers and he wants to know, but he swallows the words down so he can spend more time watching Henry grin at him carelessly instead.
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“Alex!” Henry shouts, slamming the door to his room open. “Wake up!”
Alex groans from where he’s buried under his duvet, pulling it higher up so he can shield himself from the sunlight when Henry throws open his curtains. It’s still too early, and he’d wonder why Henry is here, but like, this is their morning routine. He knows Henry will have his coffee ready if he just gets out of his damn bed. It doesn’t help that he had been up all night working on an essay for his class instead of sleeping. It doesn’t help that Henry hadn’t been there to gently pry his laptop out of his hands like he usually does in the library, forcing Alex to come back to it a day later, after he’s had some rest.
Alex doesn't move. He lays under his blanket, letting the sound of Henry's footsteps lull him back to sleep. It doesn't last long. Alex knows he has a couple of minutes at most before Henry yanks the duvet off of him, forcing him to get moving.
He's proven right when Henry does exactly that, and Alex groans in annoyance. The air is chilly, and usually that wouldn't bother Alex, but he'd been so tired yesterday that he'd stripped out of his clothes, not bothering to change into his pyjamas. He'd crawled into his bed in his boxers, a decision he regrets. Alex curls into himself as he shivers. His back is exposed, and so are his legs, and draws his knees to his chest, his spine facing Henry.
"Henry!" Alex whines, eyes still closed. "Give it back. Give me my blanket."
"No," Henry says, but his voice sounds oddly breathy. "Time to wake up."
"Gimme it. Gimme it. Gimme it," Alex starts to chant, blindly reaching out. “Gimme it, gimme it-”
Alex's hand finds Henry's wrist, and the soft material of his duvet is brushing against the side of his arm, so Alex tugs. He tugs hard, uncaring of anything other than the fact that he's cold as fuck and that he's going to freeze his ass off if he isn’t cosily wrapped up in his blanket in, like, the next three seconds. He should've thought about it though.
Henry comes tumbling down, landing on Alex with a soft oof.
He's a warm weight along Alex's back, and even though Alex didn't want this, he can't help but push back against Henry, wanting to leech off the heat. He smiles when he finally gets a hold of his blanket, snuggling in. Henry hasn't moved. Hasn't spoken. Still, his hand rests on Alex's hip, and Alex doesn't think about it too much before he grips it to tug Henry's arm over his waist.
"Cuddle me, asshole," Alex says, shifting back so that his back rests against Henry's chest.
Henry's breath hitches, and his touch is hesitant as he lays his palm on Alex's stomach, but he's so fucking warm, and Alex is so cozy that he smiles, taking a deep breath in. Slowly, hesitantly, Henry's hand presses into Alex's stomach more firmly. He's more sure. His touch is more intentional. Alex doesn't think about how his heart has started beating in his chest faster than it has any right to, not at all.
As if sensing that Alex isn't completely out of his goddamn mind for asking Henry to cuddle him when it’s twenty-six degrees outside, Henry tucks his chin in the crook of Alex's neck, tugging him closer.
"Warm," Henry comments, his other arm snaking under Alex to wrap it around his chest.
His touch burns from where his hand is pressed against Alex’s pec. His fingers are awfully close to Alex’s nipple, and he wonders, just for a second, how it’d feel if he shifted so that the tips of Henry’s fingers do brush against it. How good it’d feel. He pushes the thought away forcefully.
"So fucking cozy," Alex sighs. "Don't wanna get up."
"I fear you have to," Henry chuckles when Alex tugs the duvet up to his chin. "You have class in an hour and half."
"Which means we won't have to get up until, like, an hour and twenty."
"Alex," Henry laughs, fond. "I have my class in twenty. I need to go."
"No, you don't," Alex grumbles, fingers enclosing around the firm muscle of Henry's forearm that’s wrapped around his chest. "'M comfy."
"Ah, yes. That's a valid reason for me to skip class," Henry teases.
"It fuckin' is, sweetheart," Alex says, eyes shut as he revels in the feeling of being lit from within.
"As nice as this is," Henry starts to say, and Alex just knows he's going to hate what Henry's about to say. "I need to go."
"Your class is five minutes away," Alex says, turning in Henry's hold. "You don't need to leave now."
Henry's grinning at him, amused, when Alex blinks open his eyes. Alex pouts at the sight.
"You're teasing me," Alex says.
"Yeah? What if I am?"
"Henry, don't leave," Alex whines, tucking his head under Henry's chin, his hands trapped between their chests. “It’s fucking freezing outside. You’ll die. You have time.”
"Who's going to make you your coffee then, huh? You know how grumpy you get if you don't have it before class."
Henry's rubbing his back softly, and the drag of his hand feels perfect against Alex's spine, and something about this all makes him feel weird, but like, not in a terrible way. He brushes the feeling off. It's probably nothing. Nothing strange going on here, he reasons. It's normal for best friends to cuddle. He cuddles Nora all the fucking time. Maybe not like this, but fuck, they do cuddle, and it shouldn’t matter that Henry is a guy. It doesn’t.
"Fuck the coffee," Alex says. "I'd rather have you."
Alex can feel Henry's breath stutter from where he's pressed up against him. His hand digs into the small of Alex's back, and Alex feels how Henry takes a measured breath in.
"That's nice," Henry says, voice carefully measured. "Still, it's time for me to move, love. Let me go."
“No,” Alex says, slinging an arm over Henry’s torso, pulling him close.
“Alex,” Henry says, and he sounds desperate. “Please, let me go.”
Alex pulls back, furrowing his eyebrows. Henry’s face is blank, but his eyes give him away. He looks nervous, worried, and Alex hates that.
“Hey,” Alex says softly, shifting back, relinquishing his hold over Henry. “You’re alright. I was kidding. I’m not gonna make you skip your class, sweetheart.”
“That’s not-” Henry starts to say, but he closes his mouth, biting his lip. “Yes, class. I need to get moving. You go take a shower.”
Before Alex has a chance to process, Henry is slipping out of Alex’s bed, taking the warmth with him. Whatever happened leaves Alex feeling untethered. A shower sounds like a good idea, he thinks.
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By the time Alex gets back from his shower, fully dressed, he’s washed off the peculiar feeling from before. Henry has brewed him his coffee. There’s a steaming mug on his counter, smelling of cinnamon, and Henry’s sipping on his mug of tea.
“Hey,” Henry smiles. “Made you coffee. I should get going.”
“Appreciate it, sweetheart,” Alex grins, flopping on his chair. “You’re a godsend.”
“Careful, or I’ll get a big head,” Henry winks, slipping on his shoes.
“Don’t worry, my head is bigger than yours,” Alex smirks cockily, watching as Henry sputters.
“How do you make everything sound so- so indecent?” Henry asks, cheeks pink.
“The only indecent thing here is your thighs in those trousers,” Alex retorts. “Have you started going to the gym or something?”
The flush on Henry’s cheeks darkens, and Alex laughs. It’s endearing, seeing Henry so flustered.
“Or something,” Henry says. “I’ll see you for lunch?”
“You know it,” Alex says. “I was thinking Chinese?”
“Sounds lovely,” Henry nods. Waves as he leaves, “in a bit.”
“Have a good class,” Alex says. “Thank you for the coffee.”
“Always,” Henry says, and then, he’s gone.
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Henry's room has a kitchen, that posh bastard.
It even has an oven. Alex doesn't know what's the purpose of it all when Henry can't even cook. That's exactly why it's such a shock when he lets himself in Henry's room that evening, looking lost, surrounded by the ingredients that are laying on his kitchen counter. He looks adorable, bottom lip jutting out, eyebrows crinkled. He's looking at the mess on the counter, fingers hovering over a box of a frozen rolled pastry sheet.
"Sweetheart," Alex laughs, coming to rest next to him. "What are you doing?"
Henry looks up, startled. He shrugs, and he looks so adrift that Alex has the urge to pull him close. He doesn't.
"I thought I could bake something," Henry starts. "I haven't the slightest of what to do now that I have all this."
"Oh," Alex says, smiling slightly. "What were you planning on baking?"
"Cinnamon buns," Henry offers, fingers clutching the box. "I thought you might like them."
"I would, and not that I don't appreciate the thought, but, like... um, are you sure?"
Henry looks at him sharply then, mouth set in a straight line. He looks offended, and Alex wants to take the question back. He doesn’t think he was out of line, especially since Henry has never once touched a fucking oven in his life, but the urge to apologise rises up within him anyway.
"I'm not that incompetent that I can't bake a damn bun, Alex," Henry snaps, crossing his arms.
"Woah, hey, no," Alex says, stepping close to squeeze Henry's shoulder. "I just meant that you've never baked anything before. Are you sure you don't want to start with something more, ah, simple?"
"No," Henry says, jutting his chin out. "Your birthday is coming up. I want to perfect them by then."
"And you will. Of course, you will," Alex reassures him. "Do you need any help?"
Henry hesitates.
"Well, just this once can't hurt," Henry sighs, uncrossing his arms. "I'm sorry I got so defensive. I just... It reminded me of the time my grandmother said I can’t bake because I'm a boy and... you just hit a nerve, I think."
"Jesus, the more you talk about her, the more I want to murder her," Alex says, dropping his hand from Henry’s shoulder. "I'm sorry, too. I didn’t mean to imply that you couldn’t do whatever you set your mind to."
"That's alright," Henry smiles. "Still want to help? I thought I'd start with the pastry sheets, work my way up."
"That's a wonderful idea," Alex says. "Come on, let's get to work."
"Yeah," Henry grins, his dimple showing. "Let's."
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Alex is surprised to admit it, but Henry isn't a total disaster in the kitchen as far as baking is concerned. Cooking? Henry has a long, long way to go. He could burn water. When it comes to baking, though? The buns are only slightly charred, and Alex feels weirdly proud of his best friend.
The tray is laying on the counter, left to cool off. Henry’s whisking a bowl, trying to work on the glazing that goes on the buns. He’d even added extra cinnamon for Alex, and he hadn’t bothered to turn away to hide his grin.
"The icing is so lumpy," Henry sighs. "It's a lost cause."
"Don't say that," Alex nudges him. "Come on, this is your first try. It couldn't all have been perfect."
"I guess so," Henry says. “I would’ve liked it to.”
He's still whisking the icing, and Alex feels himself smile as he looks at Henry's face. His pout. It's salvageable, the icing. So, Alex bumps his hip against Henry’s to push him out of the way, and helps Henry perfect it. By the time they’re done, the icing is only slightly lumpy. Henry has sugar down the front of his sweater and he's a mess and Alex feels something in him settle because Henry doesn't look so damn uptight for once. He looks relaxed. At home. Alex loves that for him because he doesn’t get the chance to see Henry like this often.
There's a smudge of powdered sugar on Henry's cheek, and he's smiling at Alex softly, the sunlight streaming through the windows making his hair glow, and Alex can't fucking help it, alright? Alex can't help but move towards where Henry is standing, eyes bright. He stops in front of him, barely any space between them. Henry's eyes widen, and Alex watches how his fists clench from where they're hanging by his sides. Henry is breathing shakily, looking at Alex with a hint of wonder, and even though Alex has the weirdest of urges to look at Henry's lips, he doesn't. Instead, he raises a hand to swipe through the mess on Henry’s face, wiping the sugar off.
Henry's skin is warm under his touch, so soft, and Alex swipes a thumb over the cut of his cheekbone again even though there's not a single hint of sugar there. Henry's still looking at him with those goddamn eyes, something unreadable on his face, and Alex sways closer.
"All done," Alex says, his voice no higher than a whisper. "You had some sugar there."
“Oh,” Henry breathes, and Alex feels the tips of his fingers brush over his waist for a quick second before they’re gone. “Thank you.”
"Anytime," Alex says, eyes fixed on the pretty flush that is spreading through Henry's cheeks.
He looks ethereal in the golden glow. Alex steps away. Henry raises a hand to swipe through his cheek again, and Alex clears his throat, setting the baking tray back in the sink now that the buns are on a plate. His heart is beating fast, and his stomach is fluttering.
If Alex felt like this when he was hanging out with a girl, he would've known that it just means that he likes her, but Henry is not a girl, and Alex doesn't like him, so he simply washes the crumbs off from the tray, biting his lip.
"They're not... terrible," Henry says, pulling him away from the mess inside his head.
When Alex twists his head to look at him, Henry is poking at the buns with a curious finger, taking his hand away when the icing coats his finger. Alex laughs.
"That's a first," Alex jokes, scrubbing the dishes. "I'm proud of you."
"Thank you," Henry says, and Alex can picture the smile on his face. "I'm proud of myself, too."
"As you should be. A part of me wants you to send Mary a picture, but the bigger part of me doesn't want you to unblock her, the hag."
"As much as I'd love being petty," Henry scoffs. "She'd just manage to make me feel bad about myself. These look pretty. She’s a hateful cunt. It's not worth it."
"No," Alex agrees. "It's not."
"Maybe I'll bake them for her funeral someday," Henry muses. "She would hate nothing more."
"Now, that I can get behind," Alex says, moving to the side when Henry makes his way over to set the bowl in the sink.
"Move," Henry says as Alex sets the tray on the rack to dry. "I got this."
"I can do it," Alex says. "My hands are already all soapy."
"I got it," Henry insists.
Alex knows how important it is for Henry to do things like this for himself, so he moves away. Henry’s grandmother has this thing against him for seemingly no reason. He’s too soft for a boy apparently, whatever that means. Alex wonders if Henry would ever be enough for her, even when he brings a nice girl home, just like she wants.
"All yours, sweetheart."
Alex washes his hands and then hops onto the counter beside Henry, watching him work. There's something soothing about it all, and Henry doesn't protest as Alex takes the washed dishes from him to dry them off with a cloth.
"You did well," Alex comments.
"I did the bare minimum," Henry laughs. "The dough was pre-made."
"I don't care. It still counts. I’m proud of you. You’re proud of yourself," Alex says. "You did well. Say it."
"I did well," Henry repeats, his dimple poking out when he grins bashfully. "Thank you for your help."
"You know I got you. Always."
"Yes, you do."
"Now, hurry up," Alex says. "As good as those cinnamon buns look, come on, I need to taste them."
Henry laughs fondly, but he does wash the dishes faster.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
"Oh my God," Alex moans, icing clinging to his chin. "Oh my god, sweetheart, that's so fucking good."
Henry chokes on his bite, eyes wide. He coughs, and Alex licks his finger as he lays his cinnamon bun down so that he can rush to the fridge to get Henry some water.
"You okay?"
"Yes," Henry wheezes, shutting his eyes. "Yes, I'm okay. Everything is okay. Peachy. Perfect."
"You're being weird," Alex says, concerned. "Are you sure you're alright?"
Henry takes a huge gulp of water, eyes closed as he pulls a deep breath in. When he looks at Alex again, he looks more tethered.
"I'm fine," Henry says. "I’m fine. I have to say, these buns are good. Maybe I should take up baking, after all."
"Yes, you definitely should," Alex pleads. "You must. For me. I’ll pay you if I have to."
“Who do you take me for?” Henry asks, an eyebrow raised. “Some common pastry whore?”
Henry saying whore in that accent of his is doing things to Alex, so he just pushes at Henry’s shoulder, poking his tongue out.
“I was just being considerate, asshole. For, like, the ingredients and stuff.”
“But using my grandmother’s money for baking when she would loathe this would be so fun, though,” Henry winks.
“You’re right. Okay, I expect a sweet treat every week. You choose. I will not take a no for an answer.”
“Is it too late to return you?” Henry asks, shaking his head. Still, his lips are curved up, so Alex knows he doesn’t mean it.
“I don’t come with a receipt,” Alex retorts. “You can never return me.”
“Yeah,” Henry agrees. “I guess not.”
“Henry,” Alex whines. “You’re such a terrible best friend. You’re supposed to say that you wouldn’t ever want to return me, anyway.”
“Now, why would I lie like that?” Henry chuckles, leaning away when Alex tries to hit him.
“I’m disowning you,” Alex threatens, kicking at Henry. “Terrible service. 0 out of 10.”
“I’m sure Pez would disagree,” Henry says. “And you wouldn’t last a day.”
“You treat Pez like royalty, of course, he’d disagree,” Alex grumbles. “And I could.”
“He basically is,” Henry nods. “I’d like to see you try.”
“Oh?” Alex asks. “A challenge? Count me in.”
Henry smirks.
“I bet you wouldn’t last four hours,” Henry says, crossing his arms as he leans against the fridge.
“You’re awfully confident,” Alex says. “I so could last four hours without talking to you.”
“I guess we’ll find out,” Henry winks.
“We will.”
Alex can last four hours without talking to Henry, he’s so sure.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
Alex doesn’t last four hours without talking to Henry.
It’s close, though. He loses during the third hour. Look, if he really wanted to, he could have lasted for an hour more. He really, really could have. It’s just… Well, it’s just he sees a beagle on campus and Henry has always wanted one of those. So, he doesn’t think twice before he sends Henry a picture of it, not even realising what he’s doing.
He stares at his phone wide-eyed when he realises that he’s sent Henry the picture and lost.
Fucking Henry– he’s going to be so damn smug, that fucking bastard. Alex thinks of Henry’s smirk when he’d told Alex that he wouldn’t last a day without him, and he winces because goddamn, he’d been right. He can’t be too mad about it though.
Once he starts texting Henry, the floodgates open. He texts him every damn thing he’s held back in the past hour and there are a lot of fucking texts. It’s a little embarrassing. Alex would care more if he didn’t know Henry adores him and his million little texts.
Hen :)
[1 Photo Attached]
beagle!!!
you’d name him david or some shit
oh….
welp
LMAO ANYWAY
do u know what hunter did in
class today
we had a presentation that’s
worth 35% of our grade and
he rocked up in a tank top
and shorts
EVERYONE else was in formal
wear hen
what a fucking tool
hope he fails x
sofia asked me out earlier
would’ve said yes but then
i thought about the fact that
WE are going to the movies
together and turned her down
could have asked her to hang out
on a different day but i couldn’t be
bothered lmao
anyway do u want a tea i’ll pick
some up on my way to ur place
Oh, hello there.
:)
not a fucking WORD henry
I win!
Knew I would.
I SAID NOT A FUCKING WORD
ASSHOLE
NO TEA FOR U!!!!
<3
Alex feels nothing about the heart that Henry sends him. His palms don't feel sweaty. His heart doesn't start racing. It's all fine. Just fucking fine.