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The seat next to Henry is empty.
The restaurant around them is loud and buzzing, a myriad of voices and silverware scraping against plates and the bell above the door as another patron enters.
And Alex’s brain is even louder as he stares for one moment too long at that empty chair, wishing he could sit in it and fucking terrified of giving too much of himself away if he does.
He pulls out the chair across from Henry, instead. It’s a safe option, Alex thinks, keeping him close without letting everyone else know how his pulse is racing at just the idea of Henry being next to him.
And then Nora says, “Don’t you want to sit next to Henry?”
He does. God, he does.
Alex wants to sit close enough to touch, close enough to feel Henry’s warm skin next to him and absorb his effervescent light from the place where their bodies are connected.
But in the rush of the moment, Alex panics at the thought of admitting those thoughts aloud, regardless of how true they may be.
“Uh, no?” Alex swallows, gaze flicking to Henry’s and then back to Nora, who tilts her head at him. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you two are more attached at the hip than the conjoined twins that were on the fucking news last week?”
Henry snorts, running a hand over his face and trying to cover up the sound with a cough. His cheeks are flushed the prettiest shade of pink, his shoulders slightly tensed as he crosses his arms over his chest.
Alex wonders if Henry has the wrong idea, if he knows that Alex would slide himself into Henry’s fucking lap and curl into those strong arms for the entire dinner if he thought he had permission.
But he doesn’t.
He didn’t expect that realization to ache as much as it does, but he plasters on his best smirk to say, “I don’t think it fucking matters where I sit, Nora.”
Nora narrows her eyes as if she’s unconvinced, and Alex slides quickly into the open seat across from Henry before anyone can say another word. He tries to take a deep breath, to calm the racing of his heart as the conversation starts to hum around them.
It's fine.
It's fine.
Nora doesn't know anything.
Well. Nora probably doesn't know anything.
Henry taps Alex’s ankle twice with the toe of his shoe under the table, the smallest smile on his lips as he listens to June tell a story about her coworkers’ birthday cake getting knocked over. It’s the faintest touch—Henry’s way of telling Alex that he understands, that he isn’t upset with Alex for his reflexive answer.
Henry always seems to know the inner workings of Alex's brain, sometimes better than Alex does. The thought makes something gentle stir in his chest, new and disconcerting and yet still, under it all, unmistakably kindled by his Henry.
Alex stretches his leg out until his foot catches the hem of Henry's jeans and taps back one, two, three times.
And it's fine.
The movie theater is eerie and dark, and Alex can't concentrate on the film to save his fucking life.
Two characters that Alex doesn’t remember are running from ghoulish, bony-looking creatures, the tension in the theater could be cut by a fucking knife, and Nora is gripping his arm so tightly that he's pretty sure she's going to leave nail marks behind.
And then there's Henry.
Henry is a prominent presence next to him, his elbow resting just behind Alex's large Dr. Pepper and pushing into Alex's space. To anyone else, it wouldn’t look close enough to matter.
They aren’t even actually touching.
Only, Alex can feel the ghost of Henry’s warmth on his arm. If he got out a ruler, Alex thinks that the distance between them wouldn’t even be measurable.
Henry might not even know he's doing it, but he's driving Alex fucking crazy.
Alex glances toward the rest of their group, their entranced and semi-horrified faces barely illuminated by the dim glow of the screen. None of them are paying Alex and Henry any attention at all.
So maybe he could…
In small, barely perceptible movements, Alex pulls his left arm back toward his body. There's a jump scare at the perfect time, Nora startling next to him in a way that he is definitely going to give her shit for later.
But Alex takes the opportunity to lift his arm, placing it gently on the back of Henry's seat. He waits with his breath held in his lungs to see how Henry will react, counting the seconds one by one by one, each drawn-out moment feeling longer than any that preceded it.
Just when Alex thinks he'll take his arm away, that he's definitely pushed too far, Henry leans back.
It's the tiniest movement, but it puts Henry's body in contact with Alex's skin as he presses backward. The ridge of Henry’s shoulder blades brush Alex’s arm as he shifts again, moving closer to Alex.
Henry's eyes dart over toward him, maybe looking around him to the rest of their group to determine what they might be able to see. He seems to come to the same conclusion that Alex did, his muscles relaxing as he leans in and settles further into Alex's touch.
Alex swallows past the lump in his throat, lowering his hand just enough to tap his finger against Henry's bicep once, twice.
There's the faintest smile twisting Henry's mouth, despite someone getting eaten alive on the screen in front of them. He curls his own elbow, the pad of his thumb stroking across Alex's knuckles in three gentle sweeps.
On the way out of the theater, with everyone squinting into the late afternoon sun, Nora narrows her eyes distinctly at them.
“Are we going to pretend that you two weren't cuddling in the middle of a brutal but low-budget dismemberment?”
Henry scoffs. “Were you or were you not nearly sobbing into Alex's shoulder?”
There’s a rush of affection through Alex’s veins as Nora’s mouth drops open—if he weren’t so terrified of being called out like this, he would be pulling out his phone to document the momentous occasion.
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, he’s not wrong.” Alex can barely hear over the pounding of his heart in his ears. “I think I have your claw marks permanently etched into my fucking bicep.”
Nora humphs, rolling her eyes. “Touche.”
There's something sparkling in her eyes, suspicion and intuition all mixing dangerously in her brain.
Fuck.
She definitely knows something.
But, to Alex’s relief, she lets it go.
For now.
Alex is usually good at compartmentalizing his stress.
The former gifted kid in him can efficiently push other worries out of his brain to focus on school, prioritizing that over any other concerns, like relationships or his parents’ latest grievances or eating three square meals a day.
But sometimes, he breaks.
It's why he finds himself at Henry's door with his heart on his sleeve and moisture burning in his vision, his hair greasy and his stomach empty and his lungs barely able to draw in air without choking on it.
Henry doesn't say much, but he guides Alex inside with a soft hand on his back. He holds Alex's face between his hands and lets Alex place a hand over Henry's strong chest. Henry counts, and Alex does his best to mirror the steady expansion of Henry’s lungs beneath his palm.
“Do you want to get clean? Eat some food?” Henry asks, the pads of his fingertips soft against Alex’s temple.
Alex nods, and Henry leads him to his bathroom, promising to order food while Alex showers. When Alex smells like Henry's fresh linen-scented soap and feels more like a person, he walks into the living room to hot pizza and a snug embrace, warming him inside and out.
After they've eaten, Henry wraps an arm around Alex's shoulders and holds him together while a sitcom plays on his television. It's quiet and calm, and Henry never asks why or probes for any information that Alex doesn't know how to give.
It feels like something as close to unconditional love as Alex may ever get, and instead of focusing on why he's here, he winds up thinking about how thankful he is that Henry is next to him, perpetual and unshakable.
Permanent.
Pez comes home around eight o'clock, and Henry doesn't let Alex go even when a sharp eyebrow is raised in their direction.
Pez must see something in Alex's posture or Henry's face that keeps him from pushing, because he doesn't say anything at all before slipping down the hall to his room.
Alex wonders how long it'll be before the news gets to June and Nora, how he'll spin this to keep his heart safe from their questions and accusations that he won't know how to fucking answer.
Just when Alex feels like he may spiral again at that pressure, Henry hums at something on the TV, and then his fingertips press distinctly into Alex's shoulder twice.
Alex slides a hand over Henry's knee and squeezes back three times.
And he breathes.
“Okay, I’m fucking tired of this.”
The hair on Alex's arms stands on end at Nora's voice, sharp and way too fucking determined. All other conversations around them stop as the attention in Alex’s kitchen immediately shifts to her.
“What are you talking about?” June asks, frowning.
“Are we really going to sit here and pretend that Alex and Henry aren't fucking and keeping it a secret?”
Pez laughs so hard that he nearly chokes, June's eyes widen in a way that would be hysterical in literally any other context, and Alex knows that Henry is going to—
Oh.
Henry is smiling.
“We're not,” Henry says, stepping over to where Alex sits on the arm of the sofa and taking his hand. “Well, we are, I suppose, but we're… also dating.”
“Baby,” Alex whispers, his fingers immediately clinging to Henry's grip. “I—”
“I think our cat is out of the bag, love.” Henry brings Alex's knuckles to his lips, kissing them gently. “No sense denying it now.”
“You're…” Alex blinks, his entire world turned on its axis. “And that's okay?”
“Okay, can I just—” June laughs incredulously. “Is this why you've been acting weird?”
“I have not been acting—”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” June interrupts. “How long have you even been together?”
“Since, uh.” Alex winces. “New Years’ Eve.”
“I knew you both looked smug when you came back from walking outside,” Nora chimes in, shaking her head and looking strangely impressed. “Alex looked like he was going to be sick.”
“Kinda felt like it, to be honest. I was…” Alex shrugs one shoulder, glancing up at Henry and finding those beautiful blue eyes already looking at him. “He surprised me.”
“Gross,” Nora replies, hand over her heart. “I love it.”
“Okay.” June looks like she’s trying to solve an advanced arithmetic problem written on the coffee table. “But why didn’t you say anything?”
“That was on me, I'm afraid,” Henry says, smiling sheepishly. “I wanted… to have this to myself for a while.”
“I did, too,” Alex disagrees, glancing back toward Nora. “We both decided, really.”
Nora’s smile is smug as she crosses her arms. “Well, you should have assumed I would be the first to figure it out. You’re not fucking sneaky.”
Henry scrunches his nose. “Technically, Pez was actually the first.”
Nora’s grin drops. “What?”
“He came home the other week to Alex, er, having a rough go of it, and we were snuggled together on the couch and…” Henry laughs. “He tried to comfort me after, as though I was somehow suffering by being in physical contact with Alex without being in a relationship with him.”
“Well you were only pining away for years, Haz,” Pez interjects.
“It was not—”
“It was, darling.”
“Anyway.” Henry bites his lip, cheeks red. “I was so amused by him trying to console me for cuddling with my bloody boyfriend that I… laughed, and. Well. That certainly was suspicious.”
Nora rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I still saw right through you.”
And it doesn’t feel worth the argument to contradict her, really. Alex reaches over to pat at her head, and she swats his hand away, glaring playfully.
“If I told anyone, it would have been you,” Alex tells her.
Her scowl softens, her face scrunching up. “Don’t make me feel things, you goddamn loser.”
Everyone seems to move on relatively quickly from there, returning to whatever they were doing prior to Nora’s interruption.
Henry, though, cups Alex’s jaw in his hand and pulls him into a kiss.
It’s mostly sweet, though Henry’s tongue teases the seam of Alex’s lips as he presses close. Alex hums against Henry’s mouth and holds on as he’s kissed breathless, ignoring the wolf-whistle that resounds from somewhere to his left as his eyelids flutter closed.
“What was that for?” Alex asks when Henry pulls away, feeling dizzy.
“Because I can,” Henry says, smiling so wide that it crinkles the corners of his eyes.
Fuck, he’s beautiful.
Alex might not ever get over it.
“Oh, right.” Alex grins, too, giddy and feeling like his happiness might bubble over and fill the entire room as he slides his hands up Henry’s chest. “I can’t wait to take full advantage of this, you know.”
“I know.”
“I’m gonna kiss you, like, all the fucking time.”
“I hope you do.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
“Fucking great. I’m glad we’re in agreement.”
Henry laughs, wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist and bumping their foreheads together.
He squeezes gently at Alex’s hips once, twice. “Love you.”
Alex kisses him three times. “I love you.”