Archive of Our Own

Percy is enjoying this far too much.

His grin is devilish as he saunters into the police station — his light pink hair matches the glitter on his tank top — dressed like he hasn't been home since the night before. 

Henry hasn't either. For wildly different reasons.

Henry didn't even get dinner. 

“Hazza, darling,” Percy coos through the cell bars. “Your knights in shining armour have arrived.”

Henry had one phone call. His brother would think Henry deserved it, and his sister was currently on holiday across the country. But Pez has always been good in a crisis. It's just that he's usually the one getting into them, not Henry.

And his crises tend to be more of the throwing-an-emergency-party-at-3am kind. Not of the arrested-for-bank-robbery kind.

Hence the devilish grin.

Henry feels rather overdressed in the cell, compared to the two other men he's shared it with. He’s still wearing his first-date standard uniform: a light blue button-up, khakis, and brown loafers. He grazes his palm against the stubble on his chin, a new addition to his outfit along with his dishevelled hair and the bags under his eyes.

“Alex is talking to the police officer and sorting out the legal stuff, and I am here for moral support.”

“Alex?”

“Yes, Alex.”

“Alex Alex?”

“Yes, Hazza. Your Alex.”

He’s certainly not Henry’s Alex. Not anymore.

“Surely you could have called someone else?”

“How many lawyers do you know?”

“He’s an immigration lawyer, Pez. He’s not a criminal lawyer.”

Percy shrugs and waves his hand around, like it’s an insignificant detail.

“All I know is that I rang him and said we have a damsel in distress and he was at my front door ten minutes later.”

—————

“Alright, so tell me what happened.”

Percy had left them at the police station after he’d arranged bail. He gave Henry a full-bodied hug and told Alex to take care of Henry. Alex didn’t see the wink that Pez threw over his shoulder to Henry — mischief and chaos shrouded in one closed eye — as Alex nodded solemnly and assumed his responsibilities.

Alex collected all of Henry’s belongings in a brown paper bag. He asked the police all the pertinent questions Henry was too numb to think about, and drove them to the nearest 24-hour diner. He said Henry needed greasy food, a lawyer, and a friend, and luckily Alex was a two-for-one deal in that department.

Friend. That seems an odd choice of word for people who haven’t spoken in two months.

Alex takes out a little notebook and pen, writes HENRY and the date at the top of the page. He adds a little underline with a flourish, and clicks the end of his pen before setting it down on the paper.

Henry stares down into his omelette and toast, and the overly milky tea Alex had scoffed at as if he hadn’t personally made one for Henry a million times before, sat atop a faded red tablecloth. There are plastic menus in a pile at the end of the table, a disinterested waitress who keeps walking past their booth and a cook who keeps yelling out to her from the kitchen. It’s so simple it’s almost poetic, and on any other day Henry would be charmed by this slice of Americana.

“How did you end up driving the getaway vehicle in a bank robbery?” Alex asks, as he dips a forkful of pancake into the pot of syrup on the edge of his plate. Asks it so casually, like they’re discussing the weather and not the single most humiliating moment of Henry’s life. “Was it some kind of Ryan Gosling cosplay thing? That’s the only solution I’ve been able to come up with.”

Henry puts his head in his hands and closes his eyes. “You must know I did not choose to be involved in a bank robbery.”

When Henry looks back up, Alex's eyes have softened a little, and his voice is even softer still. “Of course I know that. Which is why I need to hear your side of the story.”

“I was on a date,” Henry mumbles.

“You were what?”

Henry looks up at the ceiling, prays for some kind of divine intervention to save him from this conversation. From this entire night. The bell above the door dings, and two women laugh loudly as they stumble towards the counter. Their high heels clacking on linoleum flooring and drunken coffee orders are not enough to save Henry from this fate.

“I was on a date.”

“Oh. You’re not still with Ben?”

“Who?”

“Ben, the guy you were dating, when—“

Alex lets the rest of the words remain unsaid, keeps them hanging in mid-air until the quiet grows tangible. He's far too kind to finish that sentence, graciously allowing Henry to grasp onto some modicum of pride tonight.

When indeed. When Henry stopped replying to Alex's messages and calls, that when? Or was it when Henry hid in his bedroom, until Alex stopped knocking on his front door, that when?

Which when, exactly, would Alex like to talk about?

Three years ago

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

Henry didn't look up from his book because he actually did mind, thank you very much. He didn't choose a tiny table in the corner to only get to use half of it.

“I'd rather you didn't.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry.”

Henry didn’t even want to be here. His therapist had suggested he try this new trend called ‘getting out of the house once a week’, and he had reluctantly agreed that it might be good for him. He’s done it twice now, two Saturdays in a row, both times to the cafe down the road to have a coffee by himself and read in silence. This time, he spoke to the cashier when he ordered, and smiled at the barista, and that was quite enough human interaction for one day.

Henry’s therapist had told him he could be selfish if he needed to, if putting himself first in some small way made it easier for him to do something so outside of his comfort zone.

He felt a pang of guilt, though, when he glanced up and saw how busy the cafe was. He hadn’t noticed the increase in volume in the time he’d been there, or how he was now the only person occupying a table on their own. The man had already started to walk away, shoulders slumped in defeat, when Henry called out to him.

“I won’t make a sound, I promise,” the man said, as he dropped a mountain of textbooks onto the small table. “I really need to study and my apartment is too quiet so I came here, but if I sit by myself, I’ll just drink coffee and play on my phone and this is the only free seat left anyway and you look pretty quiet so I’ll just sit here and study and you won’t even know I’m here.”

Henry turned his open book face down on the table.

“Sorry, that was a lot of words for someone who said they would be silent,” the man said, self-deprecating but wrapped up with a sense of easy charm he wore like a coat.

Henry couldn’t help but smile. The man was infuriatingly attractive, dressed casually in jeans and a faded t-shirt that Henry could never pull off. Henry felt a tad stuffy in his collared shirt, but was thankful he’d at least thought to uncuff and roll the sleeves.

“It’s fine, really. I shouldn’t have said no, that was rude of me.”

“Nah, I get it, no one wants to sit with a rando. I’m Alex, by the way.”

“Henry.”

Alex was a lot of things, but he was not silent. He really tried, for at least the first few minutes. He clicked his pen, and then stopped. He tapped his fingers on the table, and then stopped. He kicked his leg against his chair, and then stopped, and although Henry was promised quiet, he wasn’t at all bothered by the intrusion. It was endearing, actually, watching Alex struggle against his natural impulses.

The fourth time Alex opened his mouth to speak and then stopped himself, Henry closed his book. “What are you studying?” he asked.

The relief on Alex’s face was palpable, so thankful to be able to talk he sighed deeply and whispered thank you before he launched into his response. “I’m studying law, preparing to sit the bar exam in a few weeks and I’m losing my mind a little bit so I really needed this today.”

Alex bought Henry another coffee, and they shared a chocolate croissant, and then Henry spent the next hour learning about immigration law and Alex’s plans for the future.

“I’m actually terrible at being quiet, I don’t know why I promised you I would be.”

“I can tell,” laughed Henry. “Same time next week?”

“Oh, no, that was… nothing.”

“Right. So tell me about this date.”

“Alex, come on. I don’t think we should be doing this.”

“Look. I said you needed a friend who is a lawyer, but you also just need a lawyer. And right now, you’ve got me.”

Henry inhales slowly through his nose. Hopes the extra time might allow a sinkhole to open in the middle of the diner and swallow him whole.

“We met on an app a few days ago and made dinner plans. A couple of hours before the date, he rang and insisted that I drive to pick him up, even though we had picked a restaurant that was easily walkable for both of us.”

“Which app?”

“Grindr.”

“Why was a walkable restaurant so important?”

Henry picks at a loose stitch on the tablecloth, pulls it so tight the thread puckers under his hand. It’s ugly and tightly wound and Henry can relate. He inhales sharply before he speaks. “In case we wanted to fuck, Alex.”

Alex writes fuck in his notebook and underlines it. He looks at it again, adds a question mark and draws little stars on either side of the word.

“Is that really necessary?”

Alex looks down at the decorated word and shrugs. “I didn’t bring a highlighter. It’s too early to tell, but yeah, it might be. I’m going to ask a lot of questions, and take notes, so I can make sense of this all later on. Okay? There’s no judgement here Henry, I promise. I’m a professional.” Alex takes a sip of his black coffee, and squishes his lips together in disgust. He finishes the mug anyway, and raises his arm in the air. “And did you?” he asks, as he twirls his black pen through the fingers of his other hand.

Henry places his fork down across his plate, the angle similar to the shape of the eyebrow he raises at Alex. “I did not.”

Alex stops twirling momentarily to write that down. “So you’re on a date, and you drove to pick him up. Then what happened?”

The disinterested waitress comes by with a fresh coffee refill. Alex smiles effusively and bats his long lashes when he asks for the coffee pot to be left on the table. It works; apparently no one is immune to Alex’s charms. Her indifference is somehow replaced with a smile, and Henry swallows down the last of his tea and fills his mug with coffee. Henry’s not jealous of a bored waitress who is just doing her job, he’s not. But it feels a lot like he could be.

“He wanted to stop at the bank to get cash out. I said he could Venmo me after dinner but he insisted.”

“You’re drinking coffee again?”

Henry looks down at his mug, unaware he’d even poured coffee into it. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

“Are you okay?” Alex asks, his soft voice laced with concern. His hand moves forward almost of its own free will then pauses, his arm frozen across the table in an unfinished gesture, as if his body still holds the muscle memory of what life was like before.

When they were friends.

“You just picked me up from the police station, Alex. I think that speaks for itself.”

Henry doesn’t know how to do this. How to sit across from Alex and not be comforted by him, how to be near Alex and not want to make him laugh, or how to talk to him and not lay a trap in the conversation, a sleeper agent of a suggestion that triggers Alex's argumentative reflex and launches them into the next hour of conversation.

If this was before, Henry would have called Alex himself from the police station. Alex would have hugged him, one of those full-bodied hugs that protected Henry from the world, and Alex would have taken him home and made him tea and stayed awake talking until the sun came up. But this isn't before, it's now, and Henry has no choice but to accept that.

“He couldn’t have used an ATM?”

“Yes, well, I didn’t think of that at the time. He said to keep the engine running while he ran inside the bank, because he was dressed very warmly and he wanted the air con to stay on and keep the car cool and oh, Christ, he was wearing black jeans and a leather jacket. He had a beanie on, Alex. It’s July!”

“He must’ve been pretty hot, huh?”

Henry glares at him.

Alex ignores it. “Alright, so tell me about this guy. What’s his name?”

“Hunter.”

“Look Henry, I’ve gotta be honest, there’s at least ten bright red flags here already. Describe him for me.”

Henry lifts the mug to his mouth and stares down at the steam rising out of the top. He can’t look at Alex when he says this, but he knows he needs to be honest. He takes a slow sip of bitter coffee and wishes it were laced with something stronger. “Dark hair, a little bit long and unruly at the ends. Tan skin and brown eyes. A wicked grin, and dimples when he smiled.” Henry clears his throat, his mouth suddenly dry.

Alex seems to pause for a moment before responding, like he’s doing some mental calculation he’s not willing to share. He clears his throat. “Anything else?”

“He’s about a head shorter than me, maybe 5’9” or so.”

“So he's tall.”

God, Henry has missed this so fucking much. Just the two of them, late nights and conversation and nothing else in the world that mattered as much as this.

“Okay, and then? You kept the car running while he was inside holding up the bank, and then — what happened next? He ran outside?”

“Yes, he came running out and jumped into the car.”

“Did he have a bag with him?”

“A big duffel bag, I think it was black.”

“To match the rest of his summer wardrobe, that makes sense.”

Henry smiles despite himself. “Dress for the job you want, and all that.”

Alex carefully swallows down a mouthful of coffee. “You can’t be funny, Henry, I nearly spat that out.”

It’s so easy to fall back into familiar patterns, this back-and-forth between them. So much easier than it is with anyone else, on any app.

“Noted.”

“So he flings open the door, jumps into the front seat with the bag of cash on his lap — is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Then, what, you start driving?”

“He was screaming at me to go, and alarms were going off inside the bank, and so much noise coming from every direction, so I started driving. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You panicked, and you fled. Fight or flight, right? It’s an automatic response in your body, just pure instinct. It’s a perfectly normal reaction in that situation.”

“I suppose.” Henry can only look down at his fingers. He can’t look up at Alex, or move his body, or think any thoughts. He still can’t believe he was so dumb and desperate that he could end up here. If he could, he’d go back in time to two months ago, and undo every stupid misstep he’s made since that night that led him here.

Bloody hell, his therapist is going to have so much to say about this.

“So you start driving, and then what? Police start chasing you?”

“Yes, we got maybe a block or so away before I noticed the flashing lights and sirens in the rear-view mirror. They could have been there longer. It’s all such a blur.” Henry presses the heels of his palms into his eyes and sighs in frustration.

“You’re doing great, Henry.”

“They followed for, I guess, another two blocks, until I stopped at a red light.”

“You were driving the getaway vehicle in a bank robbery and you stopped at a red light?”

“Yes, of course.”

Alex smiles warmly. “Of course you did.”

Two years ago

“No, Alex, you’re outvoted,” Nora said. “We are not watching The Notebook again.”

“Henry picked it!”

“I’m not sure that’s exactly what happened. You asked if I wanted to come to your sister’s place and watch The Notebook,” Henry said, as Nora snickered next to him.

“And you’re here, so.”

June gently peeled open the microwave popcorn to let the steam escape, batting away Alex’s hands as she poured it into a large bowl. “Alex, you've already watched it three times this month. Let's watch something else.”

“How do you know that?”

“Letterboxd.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have added you. I just like Rachel McAdams.”

Nora eyed him suspiciously. “I'm sure that's the reason. What about Blue Valentine?”

June shook her head, “I love Michelle Williams, but it’s too depressing. La La Land?”

“Gross, too much singing,” Nora said as she grabbed some mugs out of the kitchen cabinet. “I’m making coffee. What about Drive?”

Henry sat down on the couch, not quite sure if everyone already had a preferred seating arrangement. They obviously did this a lot; bickered and laughed and watched a movie if they could ever agree on one.

He’d met June and Nora a couple of times already, but this was the first time he’d been included in their sacred movie night. He knew how important the girls were to Alex, how important it was to Alex that they got to know Henry. How important Alex had become in his own life, in the brief year they'd known each other.

“Coffee me,” Alex shouted, nudging Henry’s knee as he shuffled between the couch and coffee table, and swiped a handful of popcorn on the way.

“Maybe not something so violent,” Henry said. “Perhaps Crazy, Stupid, Love?”

“Yes!” Alex said excitedly, as he flopped onto the couch next to Henry, half in Henry’s lap. “I love that movie.”

“The Dirty Dancing lift,” sighed June, and Henry nodded in agreement.

“Henry, coffee?” asked Nora.

“None for me, thanks. I’ll take tea if you have it.”

“I’ll have his,” Alex said, as he picked up the popcorn bowl and placed it in Henry’s lap. Henry was suddenly very aware of how close their thighs were, pressed against each other on the couch. Alex reached into the bowl and took a handful of popcorn, and tossed it into his mouth with a laugh.

June sat in the single armchair across the room, remote control in her lap and her feet resting on a little ottoman. Nora finished making the drinks, then sat on the other end of the couch, close to June, and for a three-seater couch with three people on it, there was a lot of empty space left in the middle.

“I’m not sure what you did to deserve him,” Nora said to Henry.

“I ask myself that every day.” Henry pressed his knee into Alex’s, who smiled back at him.

“He was rude to me!”

“And look how that worked out for me,” Henry said.

“Should have trusted your instincts, Henry,” Nora said. “You were right the first time.”

Henry’s arm was stretched along the back of the couch, and when Alex turned — bent his knee across the couch cushion so he was facing Nora as he defended his honour — it was basically around Alex’s shoulder. Henry kept it there the rest of the night.

“You’re stopped at the light, and then what, the police got out of the car?”

“Hunter was yelling at me to run the light but… look, I might be an idiot for ending up in this situation —”

“I do not think that.” Alex clasps his hands in front of him, stern and serious looking every inch the professional lawyer he is despite the unbrushed hair and casual attire.

“That’s very kind of you to say, but it’s true.”

“Let’s just keep going, okay. We can talk about feelings later.”

Henry will not be talking about his feelings later, thank you.

“He was yelling, and I was finally starting to regain some sense and yelled back, so he opened the door and ran out of the car.”

“He took the bag with him?”

“Of course.”

“Then what?”

“He ran, I don’t know where he went, but he disappeared down a side street pretty quickly. And then the police appeared at my window with their guns drawn and told me to get out of the car.”

“And you did?”

“I did, and they took me back to the station, and now I am here.”

“So is this a typical Thursday night for you? Meet someone on an app and take them home?”

Underneath the table, Henry presses his feet to the floor. He tries to push out all of the tension and shame he’s carrying within him, tries to hide it down in his ankles with enough force that it slips through the cotton of his socks. Hopes it sticks to the grimy diner floor, blends in amongst the black and white chequered tiles until it walks out stuck to the sole of another customer’s shoe.

It’s either that or stab a knife through his hand to distract Alex from this line of conversation. 

Henry shakes his head, and thinks carefully before answering. “Wait. It’s Thursday night,” Henry says, like that’s explanation enough. It’s not. “You have to work in the morning.”

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll take a personal day.”

“Alex. I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask, and I’ve already done it.”

“Thank you,” Henry says, and he means it. 

“Don’t thank me yet. I’m going to need your phone and your Grindr account details.”

The mug slips out of Henry's hand, hot coffee spilling over the table as it clatters onto the saucer below.

“You’re what?” Henry asks, the squeak in his voice only slightly louder than the ringing in his ears.

Alex grabs a couple of paper napkins out of the holder on the end of the table. He uses one to wipe up the splashes of coffee on his notepad and passes the rest over to Henry. “I need to gather evidence, both to show that you never met this guy before, and that you have a pattern of hooking up with people from the app. If we can show your intentions were pure —”

Henry coughs, and focuses all his attention on cleaning up his mess.

“— Okay, not pure, your intentions were obviously horny —”

Brown liquid is splattered all over the faded red tablecloth like some kind of Rorschach test. Henry can see a butterfly, a dragon, and the few remaining shreds of his dignity spilled out in front of him.

“— But if we can see that you have a pattern of that horny behaviour, we will be able to show that you —”

The napkins are already soaked through, brown and defeated by the volume of liquid. Henry reaches over to the end of the table to grab a few more. He pulls one, two, out easily, but the third gets stuck on the one behind it. He pulls again, the spring mechanism in the metal holder creaking with insubordination. Henry yanks harder, pulls five napkins out at once, an entire fist full of wadded up paper. The only victory he’s had today.

“— Don’t use the app to find criminals.”

Alex picks up the coffee pot with one hand and uses the other to stretch over the table and turn Henry’s mug upright. While Henry mops up the remaining coffee on the table, Alex pours Henry a fresh mug. He adds more milk than he would ever put in his own, and stirs.

“Don’t worry, standard client-lawyer confidentiality stuff applies. I won’t tell anyone what I find.”

Henry is beet red, he’s sure of it. Brighter than the tablecloth, or the ketchup bottles on the tray the waitress is carrying, or the police sirens when they appeared in Henry’s rear vision mirror last night.

Henry isn’t concerned about Alex sharing what he finds.

He’s concerned about Alex finding anything.

He could find that Henry seeks out dark-haired men who are slightly shorter than Henry's six-foot-two. Curly hair and chin dimples not mandatory, but definitely preferred.

He could find that Henry has matched with multiple men named Alex, with no regard for nationality or physical characteristics.

He could find that Henry would give all of them up for this Alex.

Henry’s fingers are trembling as he flips over his phone and fumbles with his pass code. Alex reaches over and gently touches his wrist after the fourth wrong attempt.

“How about we make this fair?”

“Are you going to commit a crime, too?”

Alex leans in close, his face just inches from Henry’s, his voice softer than Henry has ever heard it. “Never, ever say that, you hear me? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Henry slices off the corner of his toast, raises it to his mouth and then pauses. The right angle triangle of buttered toast hovers in mid-air for what feels like an eternity before Henry places it back down on his plate.

“I stole an apple when I was five,” Henry says, eyes focused down on his plate.

“What?”

“From the greengrocer near our house. I was with my dad. I hid it in my coat pocket and ate it in secret when I got home.”

“You didn't get caught eating it?”

“We had apples at home, it wasn't too suspicious that I would be eating one.”

“The perfect crime.” Alex looks so relaxed, calm, so downright pleased with this piece of history that Henry doesn't know what to do with himself.

“And when I was eight or nine, my teacher had books in the classroom we could borrow if we wanted to do some extra reading. But it wasn’t like the school library system where they were checked out in your name, you just took them home and brought them back when you were finished. I still have three of them at my mother’s house.”

“Are you confessing all your sins?”

“Those are the big two.” Henry straightens his shoulders, straightens his knife and fork on his plate, and straightens his gaze on Alex. “I just think you should know who you’re dealing with.”

“Wow, and you think you know someone,” Alex says with a smirk. He relaxes back into his seat, his shoulders pressed against the worn vinyl covering the booth seats. “An apple and three books, that’s pretty wild. But I think I know what I signed up for.”

“Are you not going to confess any crimes of your own?”

Alex glances from side to side before lowering his head towards Henry. He softens his voice, speaking so quietly Henry has to lean forward to hear him. “You cannot repeat this, you promise? I’ve never told anyone this, and I don’t want to be disbarred.”

Henry nods, the only way to stop his face from erupting into a wide grin. This is too solemn an occasion for that.

“When I was in first grade, we had a class pet. This little lizard — his name was Scaly — trapped in this little cage, and he just sat and stared at us all day. Scaly was so fucking sad I couldn’t concentrate. And in hindsight maybe that was the undiagnosed ADHD, but still. I’d be trying to colour between the lines, which is difficult at the best of times, and there’s this sad fucking lizard watching me. So I waited until the day we had a sub, and at lunch I told her I had to go back in the classroom to get my hat, and I took Scaly out of the cage and set him free outside. I left a window open near his cage, and moved the door so it was kind of propped open, and then I acted surprised when we all came back into the classroom together.”

Alex looks around again, makes sure the diner doesn’t have some secret spy listening in on their conversation. “And you know what the best part is?”

“Tell me.”

“I didn’t even have a hat that day.” Alex leans back, his smile as wide as the diner booth, and adjusts his position in the seat. Sits up a little straighter, repositions his feet under the table so they’re now lightly grazing Henry’s loafers. And it’s unintentional, Henry is sure of that, but it feels nice. He’s not in any rush to move his legs away. “And this part sounds like I’m making it up, but I swear to god I’m not. When I put Scaly down on the ground, he looked back up at me and he nodded. Like ‘thank you, sir’ before he scampered away.”

There's a parallel here somewhere, Henry is sure of it.

Henry was the bored lizard stuck in a cage. Until that day in the cafe, when Alex turned up without a hat.

One year ago

“Want to try that new restaurant this weekend, the Korean one around the corner?” Alex asked, sat atop Henry’s kitchen counter like he owned the place.

He may as well; he was there often enough.

“Maybe Saturday?” Henry said.

“Yep, and Nora is going to that bar near her work on Friday night, the one we went to a few weeks ago.”

“With the garish neon lights in the bathroom?”

“No, that’s the other one. It’s the one where the girl with curly hair hit on you at the bar,” Alex said, kicking his feet into the cupboards below.

“Ah, yes, I remember, and you told her to back off.”

“You were leading her on!”

“We were having a pleasant conversation, actually. But I can’t Friday, I’m meeting Luke for a drink after work.”

“Luke? The guy you had lunch with yesterday?”

“Can you please stop kicking those cabinets, I would actually like my security deposit back when I finally move out of here.”

The intercom buzzed near Henry’s front door, and Alex pushed off the counters and landed on the floor with a thump. Henry expected his downstairs neighbour to bang their ceiling any second now, they often complained about the herd of elephants in Henry’s apartment whenever Alex was over.

“But Luke?”

“Yes, I had lunch with him yesterday.”

“You can come meet us after if you’re just going for a drink, we’re not that far from your office.”

Alex walked through to open Henry’s apartment door to wait for the delivery driver. Henry grabbed two wine glasses from the cabinet next to the fridge and the bottle of red he chose for the evening, and carried them over to his dining table.

It was barely a dining table; it seated two at the best of times, but Henry always thought it was more civilised to have a designated eating space. When they ate at Alex’s it was always plates atop knees while they sat side-by-side on the couch, a delicate balance that invariably ended with a mess on the floor.

“The Doordash guy knows my name,” Alex said proudly as he carried in their dinner. He unboxed the noodles and rice, served himself the spiciest dish and moved it out of Henry’s reach.

“So, Luke?” Alex asked, his knees pressed up against Henry’s underneath the tiny table.

“Hmm?” Henry asked, mouth full of fried rice.

“You can meet us after.”

“Oh. We might be out late, I’m not exactly sure what we have planned yet.”

Alex thought for a moment, then tapped the ends of his chopsticks together. “I see. You wanna get laid.”

Henry coughed, must have a bean sprout lodged in his throat. “I… wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

“You wouldn’t be opposed to it? Do you talk like that in bed? Actually, no, don’t tell me. Didn’t you say Luke ordered your meal for you yesterday? Fuck, that’s so patronising.”

Henry pointed down to his plate.

“Okay, fine,” Alex said. “I ordered for you tonight. But that’s different, that’s… us. Luke barely knows you, it’s not the same.”

Us. Henry’s two favourite letters. He’s not sure what he did to deserve this, this us, but he’s thankful for it every day. The way Alex squeezed himself into Henry’s life and never left, never made him feel unwelcome or unwanted or unlovable. Because Alex loved so wholly, so completely, so deeply that Henry felt it in every cell in his body. It might not be the way he wanted Alex to love him, but it was enough. It had to be.

Henry shrugged. “He bought me a coffee this morning on his way in to work.”

Alex stared at him, mouth agape and eyebrows stretched so high they met his hairline. “Coffee? And you poured it out in front of him, right? Right?”

“It’s the thought that counts. I had a sip.”

“I didn’t know you were such a cheap date. You really need to raise your standards.”

Alex unlocks his phone and places it in Henry’s hand, his fingers brushing against Henry’s palm. Again, entirely unintentional. “Here, you can look through my phone at the same time. We’ll be even.”

Henry doesn’t want to do this. Doesn’t want to know who Alex is talking to on apps, or know what Alex has said about him to June and Nora. When Henry locks the phone and places it back down on the table, there’s a notification on the lock screen from a few hours ago, a message from an unknown number: Congratulations Alex, we’ve accepted your application! David will be ready to go home with you this weekend, call us to arrange details.

He doesn’t know anything about a David. He doesn’t want to ask, he doesn’t deserve to ask, not since he chose to put this distance between them. But he deserves a lot of things for how he’s treated Alex.

Alex is scrolling through Henry’s phone, taking screenshots and making notes. “It looks like Hunter has already unmatched you on Grindr,” he says, as he swipes quickly between apps.

“What a shame,” Henry says. And then, bravely, “Who is David?”

“Oh yeah.” Alex looks up at Henry with a half-second pause like he’s not sure what to say next. “I’m adopting a dog.”

“Wow, that’s…” That’s fucked up, actually, that Henry doesn’t know that. They’ve never even talked about pet ownership before, apart from a far-off in the distant future maybe one day kind of conversation. “I didn’t know you wanted a dog.”

“It turns out there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me,” Alex says, quickly looking back down at Henry’s phone. Alex has every right to be spiteful towards Henry; the kindness he’s shown so far is completely unwarranted. But, Christ, he may as well have taken his knife and stabbed it through Henry’s chest. That probably would have hurt less.

Henry nods; knows if he speaks the words will come out as tears instead. He’s not ready to do this yet.

“I guess I’m not very good at being on my own a lot, so June suggested I get a dog to keep me company.”

“That’s a good idea.” Henry is completely numb, not entirely sure how he’s managing to speak. He thought this date would be a new beginning, a convenient way to move on from his own shitty behaviour. Pack it up in a box and start fresh. Turn over a new leaf. Live life post-Alex.

And Pez has long been an advocate for Henry’s sluttier side, and an even bigger fan of Henry doing anything remotely risky. But even Pez hadn't thought this date was a good idea.

“Is Grindr the only app you’re on?” Alex asks.

“Yes, but I think I’m done with it.”

“Probably a good idea for now. Alright, I just have a few more questions and then we can wrap this up and get you home.” Alex slides Henry’s phone back across the table, then repositions his notebook in front of him, ready to write.

Alex refills his coffee and swallows down a bitter mouthful. “Did you want any more?” he asks.

Henry shakes his head, “No.”

“So I had a look through your phone and I did notice a bit of a pattern in your Grindr usage that I found concerning.”

“Oh?”

“It looks like in the last few weeks you’ve matched with at least four men named Alex, and almost every other guy you’ve matched with has dark curly hair and none of them are taller than six feet. What’s up with that?”

Well, fuck. The elephant in the room has now taken a seat and grabbed a mug, finishing off the rest of the coffee.

“Are you asking this as my lawyer?”

“I was collecting evidence as your lawyer. But, no, I’m done lawyering for now. I wasn’t going to do this tonight because you’re clearly going through something but I’m going to explode if I don’t speak up, so fuck it. Let me present some facts to you and then maybe you can tell me exactly what I’m supposed to think. Exhibit A, me, one Alex Claremont-Diaz, you may perhaps remember me as your best friend? The guy that you kissed, do you remember that? I sure do, 'cause it was the last time I spoke to you, up until a few hours ago. Which is so fucking weird, because we’re usually inseparable, right? And then I discover that in the time since you kissed me — and it was a great fucking kiss by the way, I haven’t stopped thinking about it — you have been trying to, what? Replace me? Find some random guy that looks vaguely like me and date him instead? What the fuck, Henry?”

Two months ago

“What are you doing out here?” asked Alex, the drink he'd ordered at the bar a few minutes ago still in his hand.

“Just needed some fresh air,” Henry said, on a busy street corner as the air was thick with tension and the exhaust of cars and buses going past. He pressed his back to the cold glass of a shop window, a calming distraction from the sweat that poured down his back and the million thoughts that raced through his head.

“Are you okay?” Alex asked, one step closer. “I tried to find Ben to come get you, but I couldn’t see him in the bar.”

Ben? Oh, right. The guy that Henry’d fucked a few times, that he'd invited out tonight to meet his friends. Henry hadn’t seen him in a few hours, since he bumped into some people he knew from work and never returned to their table. Henry hadn't followed him; didn’t really care that he’d gone.

“I think he left already.”

“And is that why you’re out here, because you’re… upset?”

Well, yes, but it had nothing to do with Ben. Henry had been having a great night with his friends, drinking and laughing, until the girl in the green dress set her eyes on Alex. She sat on his lap. She did a couple of shots with Alex and then put her arms around his neck. And he let her, and he laughed, and Henry will never, ever have that. Not with Alex. And Henry had started to realise that that might actually kill him.

No matter how many men he dated, or slept with, or thought about, he would always wish they were Alex. It’s not a new thought. It’d been plaguing him for a while, now. Every time he and Alex saw each other through the week, or texted throughout the day. Every time Henry took a breath.

He couldn’t keep doing this. He couldn’t spend every day wishing his best friend would suddenly develop an attraction to men, to Henry. He couldn’t stand back and watch Alex live his life, wishing desperately that Henry could play a different role in it. Just waiting, always waiting, for it to be his turn. It wasn’t fair to Alex, and it wasn’t fair to Henry.

It’s the hope that kills you, after all.

Henry stepped forward, shirt glued to his back. Alex stepped closer, still holding that fucking glass of whiskey. The one that meant he was ready to go home, his last drink before he called an Uber.

“You were dancing,” Henry said.

“You weren’t.”

They would dance together sometimes. Never as close as Henry wanted, but he still felt joyous and carefree in the moment, his hair flopping all over his face and a grin he couldn’t shake off glowing under the low lights of the dance floor.

Henry hadn’t danced tonight. Ben hadn’t wanted to, and even though June and Nora and Pez were in there somewhere, Henry hadn’t dared let himself get that close to Alex.

“Didn't feel like it,” Henry said.

“What’s going on?”

And then Henry did the most selfish thing he’d ever done in his life.

He took one more step forward, hooked his arm around Alex’s shoulders and kissed him.

Alex let out a little moan of surprise, and Henry felt the cold glass pressed against his back, as he ran his hand through the soft curls at the nape of Alex’s neck.

“Henry,” Alex whispered, so soft Henry barely heard it.

Maybe he blacked out, or he invented teleportation, he’s not sure, but all he can remember next is the thud of his heavy footsteps on the pavement as he ran down the street. Car horns as he ran across the road. His lungs heaving in his chest, and the tears streaming down his face as he ran back to his apartment and collapsed on the bed.

“I have no explanation for my behaviour,” Henry says, because he doesn’t. “It was selfish, and reckless, and —”

Alex holds up his hand. “Stop. I’ve had a lot of time to think about this, and I think I’ve got it. You kissed me, you were dating another guy at the time by the way, which you seem to have forgotten, and you somehow decided that I would hate you for kissing me, and so you ran. Am I close?”

“That sounds about right.”

“Okay, good, just making sure. Gotta ensure all my notes are accurate here.”

Henry balls a napkin in his fist. He’s had two months to think about this moment and still doesn’t have a clue what to say. He somehow thought he could avoid Alex long enough that it would never have to come up again. Maybe they’d run into each other in the supermarket five years from now, when that horrible night on the street corner was so long ago it was all but forgotten.

Henry would never forget, he would never —

“Wait, wait. You said it was a great kiss.”

“Fucking incredible.”

“But you’re straight.”

Alex shrugs, a gentle little shoulder raise. “Yeah, I thought so too, but… nope. I’m bi.”

“And you realised this after I kissed you?”

“Let’s get the facts straight. It was after you kissed me and then ran off and then didn’t respond to my messages and then, I’m guessing, probably hid in your bedroom when I knocked on your front door a few days later.”

Yes, that’s an accurate summary of events.

“I am deeply sorry for that. I panicked and I ran and I have no excuse. I didn’t think the kiss was welcome, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, so I — “

“So you stopped talking to me, and ruined our friendship anyway. Fight or flight, it’ll get you every time.”

“I have been miserable, Alex. I’m not sleeping, I’m barely leaving the house, except for —”

“Except to rob a bank, apparently. Hey, be gay, do crime, right?”

Henry manages a wan smile.

“Same, by the way. I’m glad you’ve been miserable because you deserve it, but I’m fucking lost without you. I hate it. June can only tolerate so many of my texts a day, and Nora has threatened to block me if I call her again late at night. I even called fucking Liam and he asked where my emotional-support British person was. You’re like the only person that puts up with me.”

“I’m sorry, Alex. I had no idea this would be as difficult for you as it has been for me.”

“Are you dumb? I know you’re not, because you’re so fucking smart I want to scream sometimes, and it’s not fair that you have that brain and you look like that, but honestly. Are you stupid? You didn’t think it would be difficult for me to lose my best friend? For fuck’s sake, Henry. What the fuck.”

Alex presses his back against the booth, arms crossed in front of him. The disinterested waitress is now interested, and yells out to the cook to be quiet while she leans against the counter to watch this all unfold.

“I’ve always worried my affection for you was one-sided. That I’ve been so hopelessly infatuated with you and that you would —”

“One-sided? I fucking love you, you obtuse asshole.”

“Alex.”

“I do, I can’t help it. I’ve had a lot of time to think the last few weeks, and it turns out you’re the only thing I can think about. There’s a reason why I picked you that day at the cafe, even if I didn’t know it at the time, and why I’ve hated every other man you’ve dated, and why I didn’t even hesitate when Pez rang me tonight even though I’m still so fucking mad at you.”

Henry never thought he’d hear those words from Alex. Certainly never thought he’d hear them from his lawyer. He can feel a green shoot of hope blooming in his chest; he’s WALL-E finding the plant in the refrigerator, his entire future dependent on how he nurtures it.

“I don’t put up with you, by the way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Spending time with you is not a hardship, Alex. I ran away from you that night because I only ever want more of you, and I didn’t think I could ever have it. If other people can’t see how special you are, what a gift it is to receive so much of your attention, that is a reflection on them, not you.”

“Fuck.” Alex leans forward and rests his forehead against the table, his arms falling down next to his legs. “You can’t just say that when I’m mad at you. It’s not fair.”

“I think it’s time I start being more honest with you about how I feel.” Henry’s therapist is going to be so fucking proud of him.

Maybe he’ll lead with that, before he tells her about the whole bank robbery thing.

Alex slowly lifts his head up from the table, rests it on his palm so his cheek is soft and smooshed. He doesn’t speak right away, just stares at Henry for a few seconds. It’s adorable.

“So yeah, it turns out I have a thing for men with blue eyes and blonde hair.”

“That explains the Ryan Gosling phase.”

“Oh my god, that’s exactly what Nora said. He doesn’t have your accent, though.”

Henry’s heart rate hasn’t been in the normal range at all tonight. First because of the fear and adrenaline, and now because Alex likes him. No, Alex loves him. And Alex just told him that, and that he’s attracted to him, and Henry’s heart may not ever calm down again. He can feel it beating in his toes, every nerve in his body newly aware of every word that Alex just said. He taps his feet against the floor in time with his heart, and Alex smiles at him.

Henry is happy. For the first time in months.

“So what now?” Henry asks.

“Now I take you home.”

“And then?”

“And then I will go home and sleep. I’ll call the police tomorrow to see what’s happening, and I’ll keep you updated.” Alex takes in a deep breath before he speaks again. “And I know I just said that I love you, and I do, but I’m not ready for this —” he waves a hand between them, “— not right away.”

Henry nods, because as much as that hurts to hear, he gets it. They have a lot of talking to do before they can do anything else. With any luck, it may be the last relationship Henry has, so he’s going to do this right.

“Anyway, you’re probably going to jail, so. I’ll send letters.”

There goes the heart rate again. “What?”

“Sorry, terrible joke. You’re going to be fine. But I want you to promise me something, can you do that? Next time you feel like meeting someone from Grindr, I want you to call me instead. Okay?”

"As my lawyer?”

Alex places his hand down on the table, stretches his fingers so they slide over Henry’s. “No, Henry. Not as your lawyer.”

Three years later

Alex clears his throat as he stands, fully aware that all eyes are on him. He loves that, though. Being the centre of attention, holding court in front of a captive audience. Probably why he loves being a lawyer, an extra perk in addition to righting all the wrongs in the world.

He looks incredible in a tux. He’s let his hair grow a little bit longer, and the slight curl falling over his brow is a particular favourite of Henry’s. He smiles when he looks down at Henry and places a hand on his shoulder, one finger now weighted down with a gold band.

“My husband and I — “ Alex pauses as the room cheers and whoops. “I know, right? I fucking love saying that. Oops, sorry, Ma. I promised I wouldn’t swear in my speech.”

“You get one!” Ellen calls out, and the room erupts in laughter.

“I’ll start again. My husband and I,” he looks down at Henry with a huge grin, “would like to thank everyone for coming today. We know people have travelled from all over the world to be here: Catherine, Philip, Martha and the kids. My abuela, I love you, thank you so much for coming. And the people who can’t be with us tonight, especially Henry’s father Arthur, have been in our thoughts all day.”

Henry reaches over and grips his husband’s hand, who squeezes it back in response. Catherine catches Henry’s eye from across the room and smiles, her eyes filled with tears.

“Hear, hear,” Bea says loudly.

“To our best people who stood by our sides today and have helped us with our wedding planning for the last few months. I know Henry’s been a bit of a groomzilla, but — “

Henry interjects with a loud sigh. “Alex, darling, be honest.”

“Okay, fine. I know I have been a bit controlling about certain aspects of the wedding but I’m only doing this once so it needed to be perfect. And it is. So thank you to June, Nora, Pez and Bea for answering all my texts and talking me off a ledge whenever I had a meltdown over, like, colour schemes or whatever.”

“Which was every day!” Nora yells.

“Which, yes, was every day, thank you Nora. Our son, David, who was the best ring-bearer in the world. Unfortunately he couldn’t stay for the reception but he performed his duties beautifully. And my husband, Henry, the love of my life.”

Henry had sworn he wasn’t going to cry today, but he broke that vow about two minutes after he put his suit on that morning. And then again every few minutes since. Why stop now?

“We were best friends before we fell in love, but I think we were probably in love all along. I’m so grateful you got arrested that night, and — “

There’s a murmur in the crowd; laughter from those who know the story and confusion from every one else.

“You were arrested?” Philip shouts, as Henry shrinks down into his seat. Henry is beet red, he’s sure of it. Brighter than the dahlias Alex chose for the table centrepieces, or the tomato salad they served with dinner, or the velvet lining inside the jewellery box when Henry proposed nine months ago.

Henry loves Alex, he really does, but he may smother him in his sleep tonight.

With his thighs first, and then with a hotel pillow.

“I hadn't planned on doing this but I guess I’d better tell the whole story. So has everyone seen that movie, Drive?”