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There were two absolute certainties about Alex Claremont-Diaz in his first semester of NYU Law: one, he’s the type of person to thrive under pressure, and two, he is never boring. Whether it’s debating immigration law in class or winning the hearts of the staff at the local coffeehouse, it’s impossible to ignore Alex’s presence once you meet him. He had a sharp wit and a mile-wide grin that simultaneously made people feel like his friends and like they couldn’t quite keep up with him.
On that fateful first day of law school, when Alex walked into 1L Constitutional Law with a tumbler full of black coffee and a bright grin, he immediately won the hearts of most of his classmates (and the professor) and has been a topic of discussion at NYU ever since.
As the semester progressed, the rest of the sleep-deprived 1L students were buried under increasing amounts of coursework. Alex, however, still managed to show up to every class, looking mildly put-together, and was somehow weeks ahead in every class. Though, if the near-alarming amounts of caffeine Alex consumes were any indication, this semester was as much hell to him as anyone else.
More recently, however, Alex has been a subject of intrigue for an entirely different reason. Better known as: “The Boyfriend”.
Alex Claremont-Diaz was a second-generation Texan with more charm than should be legal. He has a knack for commanding attention wherever he goes.
So, naturally, when Alex began mentioning his boyfriend, people listened.
It started innocently enough.
“Oh, my boyfriend says I’m absolutely helpless with directions,” Alex had said during a group lunch at Palladium dining hall (which had great food despite being a 15-minute walk from the Law School building—sue them). They barely managed to grab a seat after Alex promptly got them lost while walking through Washington Square Park (somehow).
Somehow, not noticing the multitude of double-takes, Alex continued eating like nothing had happened.
“You have a boyfriend?” Kara asks, wide-eyed.
Alex frowns. “Well, yeah. Did I never mention it before?”
“Uhh, no?” James put in, sharing a similar expression as Kara. “Does he also go to NYU? How come we’ve never met him? Wait— screw all of that. Since when have you had a boyfriend?”
“Oh! Um, since last year?” Alex finally notices the various wide-eyed expressions around him. “And no, he doesn’t go to NYU. He’s studying at Oxford right now. He tries to fly over as often as possible, but— y’know, family stuff. It’s complicated.”
“Uh-huh.” Mia, another fellow student, said, a glazed-over look in her eyes. “‘Complicated.’ Right.”
Lunch seemed rather insignificant after that. They continued the trek back to the Law building, and everyone internally started a mantra of “what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck” .
Within a day, almost everyone and their mother at NYU knew that Alex Claremont-Diaz, the 1L student who always seemed like there was a fire under his ass, had a boyfriend.
The students were intrigued—naturally. Alex was magnetic, charismatic, and intensely single . The idea of him being in a committed relationship with someone who was never around felt like discovering your favorite celebrity had a secret second life as a fucking pirate or something.
Now that “The Boyfriend” was public knowledge, the NYU students started to pay incredibly close attention to any mention of him by Alex. Well, that wasn’t difficult. Alex talked about him almost constantly.
What was frustrating was how horrendously vague Alex was being.
But still, one thing is clear: Alex is stupidly gone over Henry.
When it’s been too long without any mention of Henry, people started to approach with questions, or emailed various students of Alex’s study group to ask their questions in proxy. Alex still had no idea about the stir this has created at NYU, both amongst its undergraduate and graduate populations.
“What does Henry do?”
“He’s studying at Oxford, but he’s also working for a nonprofit. He’s been working to get them to open some locations here in New York, actually.”
“How did you two meet?”
“At his brother’s wedding.” Alex paused, grinning. “It’s a long story.”
“Is he hot?”
Alex finally looked up at their group, huddled in the corner of the Bobst Library, pretending not to be painfully invested in their friend’s love life. “Devastatingly so,” He replied, smirking.
And that’s that—no pictures, no follow-up. Just more anecdotes about Henry dropped into his every conversation like breadcrumbs. A casual mention of “my boyfriend” here, a funny story there.
It would be cute—it was extremely cute, coming from Alex.
And for a while, people took Alex at his word. Why wouldn’t they? Alex talked about Henry in the kind of offhanded, affectionate way people use when they’ve been with someone long enough that the novelty has worn off, but the warmth hasn’t.
But as the first semester ended in a flurry of snow and the second semester began, and Henry still remained conspicuously absent, doubt started to creep in.
The first cracks in the story appeared during a late-night study session in the library—without Alex because he was still somehow three weeks ahead of them in reading. Kara, who had a habit of voicing the things everyone else was too polite to say, finally spoke up.
“Okay, but seriously—has anyone actually seen this Henry guy?”
The group exchanged glances.
“I mean, Alex talks about him all the time,” James offered hesitantly.
“Yeah, but he never shows up. And he’s always conveniently ‘too busy’ to visit.” Kara leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “I’m just saying, it’s a little suspicious.”
“Well, Alex did show me a picture of them together once,” Mia shrugged. “But, like, the photo was really shitty quality and the other guy was wearing sunglasses.”
“He’s probably just shy,” Gigi suggested, though they didn’t sound convinced.
“Shy?” Kara snorted. “Have you met Alex? Shy people don’t date Alex.”
The idea that Henry might not exist was, admittedly, ridiculous. But once the seed of doubt was planted, it grew like wildfire.
For every story Alex told about Henry—how he once played a polo tournament for charity or how he almost burnt down his house cooking pasta—there were whispers in the halls.
“He’s totally made up,” Kara declared one afternoon. “Think about it. Alex is too hot, and people flirt with him constantly. He probably invented a boyfriend to get everyone off his back.”
It was a theory that gained traction quickly. Alex was gorgeous, after all, with his thick, dark hair and quicksilver smile. People flirted with him in the library, at parties, even during class debates. The thought that he might’ve invented a boyfriend to fend off admirers was... plausible. Plus, ever since he’d started talking about Henry, the relentless flirting had died down. Even the most persistent admirers had backed off once “The Boyfriend” was in play.
But not everyone was convinced.
“Maybe he’s real,” one of Alex’s classmates said during lunch. “I mean, Alex is pretty confident. If he was lying, wouldn’t he trip up at some point?”
“Or maybe he’s that good at lying,” Kara countered. “The guy’s in fucking law school. Half of this place is built on hot air and plausible deniability.”
By mid-semester, the Henry Conspiracy was in full swing.
“He’s probably just a regular guy Alex is exaggerating to make him sound cooler,” one student said.
“Or he’s an ex Alex can’t get over, and he’s pretending they’re still together,” someone else suggested.
People changed from browsing Alex’s social media to possible suspects within NYU. Because what if “Henry” was a codename for someone else at NYU?
“Maybe it’s Professor Daniels,” Steven guessed. “That man is suspiciously nice to Alex during class.”
“I don’t know… Alex doesn’t seem like the type to hook up with a professor. What if it’s that guy from the econ department Alex always argues with at parties?”
“Oh, yeah, him. I think it’s Hunter, right?”
Steven shrugged. “Who the fuck knows, I just know there’s no way in hell Henry is real.”
The running joke reached its peak during a student party, where someone had printed out a grainy black-and-white photo of a random blond model and pinned it to the wall under a sign that read: Have You Seen Henry? Contact Alex Claremont-Diaz for information.
Alex, to his credit, took it all in stride. If anything, he seemed amused by the chaos.
“You guys are ridiculous,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t have to prove anything to you. Henry’s real. End of story.”
He’d continue to casually drop lines like, “Oh, Henry would love this restaurant,” or, “That’s so Henry,” while scrolling through his phone. When someone asked why Henry didn’t just visit, Alex would sigh dramatically and say, “It’s complicated.”
And yet, there were moments when Alex’s stories felt too vivid to be fake. The way he’d describe Henry’s dry humor, his habit of falling asleep with a book on his chest, or his inexplicable love of the Bake Off .
“He’s either the world’s greatest liar,” Kara said one night, “or Henry is real and just... incredibly inconvenient.”
The Golding Lounge at NYU Law was a haven of chaos, caffeine, and sleepy-eyed law students. On any given afternoon, it was packed with students buried under mountains of casebooks and laptops, clutching overpriced coffee cups like lifelines. Most of the classes had already been let out for the day, and with spring break right around the corner, there was often more talking than studying.
Conversation flowed easily through the room. Though law school was competitive, most of them now could still bond over the complaints about courses or professors. Of course, there were also snippets of people discussing Alex and “The Boyfriend,” Henry. Still, most of NYU had accepted that Henry was either an elaborate fabrication or a figment of Alex’s imagination.
Alex was someone who thrived in this environment. But even he was cracking under the weight of law school. He still was at the top of his class and answered every cold call with a precise and (usually) correct answer. But his clothes have grown more disheveled, his eye bags darker, and his coffee intake worse than ever.
Someone in Alex’s class had tried to calculate how much caffeine Alex consumes in a week. Being both 1L students, they had mostly the same courses. But after a while, the student went silent. When asked about his “research” on Alex’s caffeine consumption, he shook his head, a traumatized look in his eyes, saying it was too much caffeine for humans to physically handle.
Alex walks into the lounge with a crooked grin, his bag slung haphazardly over one shoulder, coffee in hand. He pulls up a chair to his regular group, where Kara, Mia, and James had been passionately debating their Constitutional Law professor. He’s immediately drawn into the conversation, leaning dramatically over the table to make a point.
None of them in that lounge knew their lives were about to be shaken.
Henry had flown into New York that morning on a whim. Well—it wasn’t entirely impulsive. He had spent weeks working out his complicated college schedule and Alex’s (frankly concerning) law school schedule. Contrary to popular belief, it actually was quite rare to complete all your assignments weeks in advance, as Alex does.
Henry usually isn’t a man for surprises, mainly because of his grandmother’s influence, plus he has no idea how the surprise will be received.
But Alex had sounded especially stressed the last few times they spoke. Their late-night phone calls and texts that threaded through their daily lives were laden with exhaustion instead of the usual banter. Of course, Alex tried to make everything sound fine because he was a stubborn bastard who sometimes refused to admit he required rest and other basic human needs.
“You’re working yourself into an early grave,” Henry had said during their last call.
Alex laughed it off and then tried to distract Henry by asking about the work of the Okonjo Foundations. But Henry heard the weariness in his voice, in the brief pauses, like Alex was physically forcing himself awake. He’d decided then and there that Alex needed a reminder of home—or at least, his person.
So, Henry had cleared his schedule and endured a sleepless flight so he could keep texting Alex to prevent suspicions. And now, Henry stood outside the lounge, heart pounding in a way he hadn’t expected.
The lounge doors swing open, letting in the chaos of people crossing the hallways. No one initially paid much attention—people came and went all the time. But then, a figure stepped inside, and the room seemed to collectively pause.
Inside, Alex was mid-sentence when the doors opened. He glances up, more out of habit than curiosity. When he saw who it was, the words died on his lips.
The man was tall, with sandy blond hair that looked like it belonged in an old Hollywood film. His face was striking, all sharp angles and symmetry, like something out of a Renaissance painting. He wore a tailored wool coat and carried himself with an air of quiet confidence that turned heads without trying.
“Henry,” Alex breathes out like he’s in a dream, afraid to wake up.
The lounge fell silent. People looked from Alex to the stranger and back as if trying to solve a particularly complex puzzle.
Henry’s lips quirked into a small, familiar smile as he stepped forward. “Surprise,” his voice warm and fond. His striking blue eyes scanned Alex’s face, drinking in every detail.
For a split second, Alex didn’t move. His mind scrambled to catch up, disbelief warring with a rising tide of joy threatening to sweep him off his feet.
And then he was moving, shoving back his chair so quickly it nearly toppled over.
“Henry!” Alex’s voice was louder now, unrestrained, and before anyone could process what was happening, he closed the distance between them in long, hurried strides.
Henry barely had time to drop his bag before Alex threw his arms around him. The force sent them stumbling back a step, but Henry’s arms came up instinctively, wrapping around Alex like they were the only two people in the world.
“God, you’re really here,” Alex said into Henry’s shoulder, his voice thick with emotion.
“Of course I’m here, love,” Henry murmured, his hand coming up to tangle gently in Alex’s hair. “Where else would I be?”
The room erupted into whispers, but Alex couldn’t have cared less. He pulled back just enough to look at Henry, his hands still gripping the lapels of his coat like he was afraid to let go.
“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” Alex accused, though his smile gave him away.
“That would have rather spoiled the surprise, wouldn’t it?” Henry replied, his tone teasing but soft.
Alex shook his head, eyes bright, and kissed him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
It wasn’t just a peck, either. It was the kind of kiss that made everyone in the room feel like they were intruding on something deeply personal.
When they finally broke apart, Alex rested his forehead against Henry’s, grinning like an idiot.
“Sweetheart,” Alex said, his voice softer than anyone has ever heard. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
Henry huffed a quiet laugh, his hands sliding down to rest on Alex’s waist. “Well, it takes one to know one.”
Alex’s classmates were still staring, some with their mouths open, others furiously texting what was undoubtedly the most dramatic update of the semester. Then, eventually, the cheering began—people clapped and wolf-whistled, all of which Henry endured with a shy grin and blush.
Meanwhile, Kara looked like she was reevaluating her entire worldview.
“So this is the infamous Henry,” she said, crossing her arms.
Henry turned toward her, his expression polite but curious. “And you must be Kara,” he said, his tone effortlessly smooth.
Kara blinked, momentarily thrown. “Uh, yeah. I mean, yes. That’s me.”
Alex snorted. “Careful, H. They’re not used to charm like yours.”
“Clearly,” Henry said wryly, his arm tightening briefly around Alex’s waist. Alex smiled, leaning further into Henry’s touch.
The room seemed to come back to life then. Questions flew from every direction—about Henry’s history, his coat, his apparent perfection—but Alex barely noticed. His focus was on Henry, who met every inquiry with the kind of grace that only fueled the growing legend of his existence.
When things finally quieted down, Alex tugged Henry toward a quieter corner of the lounge, ignoring the dozens of eyes still following them.
“You’re insane for flying all the way here,” Alex said, his voice softer now.
Henry tilted his head, a faint smile playing at his lips. “I’d do far worse if it meant seeing you, darling.”
Alex stared at him, his chest tight with an overwhelming mixture of emotions. “I missed you, baby.”
Henry reached up to brush a strand of hair from Alex’s forehead, his touch gentle. “I missed you too.”
They just stood there for a moment, the rest of the world fading into the background.
Then, with a teasing grin, Alex said, “You know this is going to be the talk of the law school for weeks, right?”
Henry chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Oh, good. Let them talk.”
“Hmm,” Alex pulled Henry into a hug again, hands splayed like he still couldn’t believe Henry was here. “Wanna go back to my dorm? And then we can go and give you a grand tour of NYU.”
“Wouldn’t dream of anything less, love.”
There are three absolute certainties about Alex Claremont-Diaz in his first semester of NYU Law: one, he’s the type of person to thrive under pressure; two, he is never boring; and three, Alex has a boyfriend named Henry, who’s 100% real, and they’re perfect for each other.