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Henry takes a deep breath trying to calm his rapid beating heart before walking into the brownstone. He’s had a long day to say the least but he’s not going to bring that home to Alex, he doesn’t deserve that. He deserves good things and Henry’s really shitty day isn’t good things, so, before he can walk into the house, he needs to leave all that negative energy behind. He takes another deep breath, counts to ten, steadying himself then reaches for his keys and slides it in the lock, but he stops. He can hear music coming from inside the house and someone signing, if you can call it that.
He knows Alex is home, he’s had the day off and said he would be working on his last paper but this, this ‘singing’ can’t have anything to do with that. Henry imagines law students having to sing or rap their mock trials and laughs to himself before letting himself into the house.
He toes his shoes off at the entrance, dropping his bag where he stands as he makes his way into the house. David jumps down from his dog bed by the window in the living room clawing at Henry’s ankle begging for belly rubs. He rolls around on his back wagging his tail behind him as Henry scratches up and down his belly. Henry can hear the music coming from the kitchen. David whines his disapproval when the rubs stops and waddles back on to his bed.
The music cascades through the kitchen and around the house as Alex sings along, loudly, still doesn’t seem to notice Henry is home nor his presence.
Try to focus my attention, but I feel so A-D-D
I need some help, some inspiration
(But it's not coming easily)
Woah oh!
He reaches for the wooden spoon sitting on the drying rack and brings it to his mouth to sing along with the song.
Trying to find the magic (Woah oh)
Trying to write a classic (Woah oh)
Don't you know, don't you know, don't you know? (Woah oh)
Henry leans against the frame of the kitchen door and just watches in awe, and he can’t believe this is his life. This house, this man that he never in his wildest dreams thought he could have, let alone love him back the way Alex does, so deeply so openly like it cost him nothing to do it and maybe it doesn’t cause Henry loves him the same, with everything that he is. How did he get so lucky.
Waste-bin full of paper, clever rhymes, see you later,
Henry is so in love he could die.
These words are my own
From my heart flow…
He watches as Alex dances around the kitchen banging the wooden spoon against random objects in his path, to the beat of the song.
“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love yo-” he stops suddenly mid song and dance when he turns in the direction of Henry and shrieks.
“Jesus Christo-” His hands come up to cover his racing heart. “I have to put a bell around your neck”.
Henry just shakes his head and laughs.
He walks over to Henry, presses a chaste kiss to his lips and Henry might actually cry but before he can deepen it, Alex pulls away and he opens his eyes and are met with chocolate ones staring back at him.
“Hi baby,”
“Hi, love” he clears his throat trying to push down the lump in it. “I thought you were studying-”
Alex laughs and shifts back slowly looking back at the piles of books and loose paper scattered across the island bench.
“I was, I mean I still am, just taking a break I guess”. The music is still going in the background. “Wanna join me?”
And before Henry can string together a response, he’s being pulled forward, further into the kitchen, as Alex starts to sing again.
Read some Byron, Shelley and Keats
Recited it over a Hip-Hop beat
I'm having trouble saying what I mean with dead poets and drum machines
Alex picks up the wooden spoon again and passes it back and forth between him and Henry while singing along.
You know I had some studio time booked
But I couldn't find a killer book
Now you've gone & raised the bar right up
Nothing I write is ever good enough
Henry sways as Alex serenades him flashing that beautiful smile at him and God, how did he get so lucky.
These words are my own
From my heart flow
I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you
Alex reaches for his hands and twirls him around the kitchen laughing through the lyrics. Henry closes his eyes hoping to tattoo this moment behind his eyes so it plays on loop even as he sleeps
There's no other way
To better say
I love you, I love you-
Henry jerks when he feels Alex’s palms on either side of his cheeks. The music has stopped, and Alex has a worried look on his face.
“Hen, what’s wrong baby? -”
Henry is confused, did he do something? Why is Alex looking at him like that? He shakes his head trying to communicate he’s fine then he feels Alex’s thumb wiping under his eyes and his face is wet. He’s crying. When did he start crying, he hadn’t even realised.
“Hey, talk to me, are you okay?”
Henry sniffs, “I’m fine-”
“You are crying henry, you’re not fine.” Alex walks them over to the reading nook they had built into the kitchen window, fitted with soft mattress and plush pillows overlooking the backyard and pulls him onto his lap.
“Talk to me,” he murmurs into the back of Henry’s neck. His heated breath sends chills down Henry’s body.
He looks down at Alex’s hands wrapped around him from the back, thumb drawing soothing circles on his clothed thighs, then stands up to reposition himself. He straddles him wrapping his arms around Alex’s neck and burying his face in that spot that always feels like home.
He takes a deep breath and speaks into Alex’s neck, slightly muffled.
“Just a long day, love”
Alex in turn, hugs him tighter around the waist.
“Wanna talk about it?” He asks after the silence has stretched on long enough.
Henry sigh and sinks deeper into Alex’s lap. “Maybe later”
They sit like that as the sun begins to set around New York, casting the room in hues of orange and purple and sprinkles of gold.
“I wrote you a poem” Alex breaks the silence again after a while. Henry’s head shoots up and looks up at Alex through his eyelashes, eyes still damp from unshed tears.
“You- you wrote me a poem?” it's barely a whisper.
“I missed you today,” he whispers back to Henry like it’s a confession meant just for them. “I mean, I always miss you whenever you’re gone too long,” His grip tightens on Henry, “but I missed you a little more than usual today, so I wrote you a poem.”
Henry feels more then he sees when Alex nonchalantly shrugs, as if it’s no big deal, as if it’s just what people do in-between studying for the most important paper of their lives, and he has to bite back the tears.
“Can I read it?” his voiced croaks, he clears it and whispers, “please?”
Alex begins to shift below him, probably to get up to get said poem but Henry whines and becomes dead weight on top of him pushing him back onto the day bed.
“Baby, you have to get up so I can get it” he laughs a little but contradicts himself by pulling Henry back into him.
Henry hums, “later, wanna stay here” he closes his eye, face buried in Alex’s chest.
“Ok baby,” Alex presses a kiss onto his hair “later”.
They sit like that in each other’s arms listening to the city they now call home passing through the window. His eyes heavy, his breath slow to match Alex’s heart beating under him.
Later they’ll have dinner and he’ll tell Alex about his day and Alex will catch him up on his and Alex will read him the poem he wrote for him. They’ll take a hot bath and he’ll let Alex press him into their bed becoming one with the mattress and the sheets in hopes to rid him the day he had but for now, he’s happy to just stay like this. In Alex’s arms, in the kitchen they designed, in the house they picked out together, in the life they’re building together, and Henry can’t wait to see what else they can do together.
“I love you baby.”
“I love you.”
God, how did he get so lucky.