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"Do you love me?"
Jasper's breath hitches. "Of course I do," he says with a measured voice, staring at Henry's ceiling in the dark. "You're my best friend."
"I love you, too," Henry says after a few seconds. Jasper glances at him from across the room, but can't make out more than the silhouette of him lying in bed. "But what I meant was, are you in love with me?"
"Yes," Jasper says before he can even wonder why Henry's asking and why he sounds so earnest about it. He nods to himself. "Yeah, I have been for years." And there's the familiar ache in his chest that Henry doesn't love him back, not like that, or if he does, he's too repressed to do anything about it.
He hears rustling coming from Henry's side of the room and footsteps. Henry crouches next to the couch where Jasper was trying to sleep and Jasper can feel tiny gusts of air as Henry breathes. He shifts and turns to Henry. He's very close; he can make out his features like this, can see the depths of his eyes.
"What are you doing?" he whispers. His throat is very dry.
Henry's fingertips touch his cheek and Jasper's tired eyes flutter closed. Henry moves his fingers ever so slightly, a caress, and then he's properly cupping Jasper's cheek and Jasper's heart skips a beat. He hears Henry swallow heavily.
"Can I kiss you?" he breathes and Jasper's head feels hazy and he can only nod and for a moment, his head goes empty and all he can feel is Henry's mouth on his and his hand still on his cheek, fingertips curling into his hair.
Henry pulls back. He's frowning. It suddenly feels as though something is very wrong and when Henry leans in again, Jasper gently pushes against his chest.
"Why did you want to kiss me?" he asks. It's too sudden, too easy.
Henry shrugs helplessly.
"Henry, tell me," Jasper pleads.
"I love you," Henry says and Jasper knows he'd never lie about this, but there's something more, too. Henry sees his expectant gaze and looks down at the floor. "And I wanted to feel loved," he mumbles.
Jasper's heart breaks. First for Henry, then for himself. He sighs and sits up and takes Henry's hand and guides him to sit next to him.
"I always love you," he says. "Always. You don't have to kiss me for that. And I don't want to kiss you just to make you feel better. It should mean something."
Henry still isn't looking at him. His hand is unmoving in Jasper's. "Sorry," he whispers.
The silence is heavy and thick with feeling, at least on Jasper's part. He has to ask. "Are you in love with me?" He doesn't like the waver in his voice.
Henry looks up at him then and he lets out a short breath that almost sounds like a chuckle. "I think I am. I think I have been for a while." But he waited to do something about it until he needed what, reassurance? The knowledge stings. Jasper's mind races as he tries to figure out what to do.
"Henry," he says slowly. Henry's eyes are so open and vulnerable and scared and Jasper's resolve dies down. I wanted to feel loved. He couldn't possibly deny him that.
Jasper sighs again. He pulls Henry against him and Henry's head rests on his shoulder. Henry's breathing is too controlled. Jasper feels his shirt dampen.
He wants to mean something to Henry. He wants to be more than a shoulder to cry on. He wanted their first kiss to be sweet and romantic and happy, not born out of self-hatred and despair. He didn't want Henry's face to be obscured in the darkness, he wanted to see his smile. But this is Henry, and Henry needs him, and Jasper will hold him in the quiet darkness for the rest of their lives even if it means he'll live in that darkness forever.
He runs his fingers through Henry's hair and whispers, "I love you," into it as something heavy presses on his heart. He has Henry in his arms, and he feels only a dull ache.