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Rain lashes through the branches hard enough that Alex nearly loses his grip halfway up the tree, which is humiliating for multiple reasons. The first being that he is twenty-one years old and climbing up to Henry Fox's bedroom window like he's in a 2000s teen drama. The second being that Henry Fox absolutely despises him.
Or maybe the feeling is mutual.
Alex bangs loudly against the glass, gripping the tree beneath him so hard his knuckles turn white.
Inside, Henry startles violently, dropping the pen in his hand and spinning the chair around so quickly Alex is sure he gave himself whiplash. Warm, yellow light spills across the stack of books across from him, the sleeves of his navy blue sweater pushed up messily to his elbows.
For one ridiculous second, they just stare at each other. Henry looks unfairly beautiful in the soft light, considering it being past midnight.
Alex is too aware about the fact he looks like a drowned raccoon right now.
Henry mouths, "What the fuck?"
Alex points emphatically at the window, watching as Henry saunters towards him, lifting the window reluctantly above his head. Cold air and rain immediately blows into his room, causing him to flinch slightly.
"Oh my god," Henry says. "What on earth is wrong with you."
Alex nearly falls inside trying to climb through. His shoes squeak as they skid against the hardwood floor, he catches himself badly on Henry's desk chair.
"Nice to see you too, Fox."
"You climbed a tree."
"Thank you, Captain obvious," Alex deadpans, water dripping from his curls onto the floor. "I got caught in the storm."
Henry stares at him for a long moment. Alex can practically see the internal battle between throw him outside and basic human decency happening behind his eyes.
"You're getting water everywhere," Henry mutters.
"Sorry my near-death experience is inconvenient for your flooring."
Henry rolls his eyes and disappears into what Alex assumes is the bathroom.
The room is so aggressively Henry, there's books everywhere, neat stacks near the bed, annotated papers scattered across the duvet and a mug of tea gone cold beside an open copy of Pride and Prejudice. Alex curses to himself at the fact he's cataloguing all the details of Henry's living space. He hates even more that Henry lives exactly as he imagined.
Henry is June's best friend, June being Alex's sister meant he and Henry were forced into a kind of reluctant civility neither of them particularly enjoyed. They had to exist in the same orbit whether they liked it or not. The civility was going some-what well until an accidental-almost hookup one night they've kept secret from their friends and June.
The almost hookup is what caused a switch, from small talk and awkward smiles to complete avoidance or straight up arguing.
"Here," Henry says, snapping him from his thoughts.
Alex looks over, quickly catching the towel Henry is tossing him that smells faintly like cedar and detergent. He wraps it around himself, watching as Henry pulls open a drawer, grabbing out a black sweatshirt and sweatpants.
Alex raises an eyebrow. "You're lending me clothes?"
"You're shivering, Alex," Henry says shortly.
"Your kindness wounds me," Alex mutters, standing up.
"Bathrooms there," Henry says, ignoring him.
Alex changes quickly, the sweatshirt is soft and warm and smells like him, something about being in Henry's room, and now clothes, feels weirdly intimate in a way he wasn't prepared for.
He walks back out to see Henry sitting cross-legged on the bed with his laptop open, though he clearly isn't studying anymore.
Henry's eyes flick up once, immediately looking away.
"You look ridiculous," Henry says.
Alex looks down at the oversized sweatshirt sleeves hanging past his wrists. "Rude."
"It's a genuine observation," Henry mutters, a small pause lingering between them. Alex sits back on the desk chair besides him.
"Why in your right mind were you even out there?"
Alex sighs, "I was on a run, before the storm, I didn't realize how long I'd been running until it was too late."
"And you climbed up a tree and climbed through my window because?" Henry asks, raising his eyebrows.
"Your building was closer, obviously," Alex says quietly, picking at his finger nails.
"Mhm."
"What?"
Henry shuts off his laptop with a click, tossing it to the side.
"I just think," he says carefully, "if you truly hated me as much as you pretend to, you'd have chosen hypothermia first."
Alex laughs once, disbelieving.
"Oh, that's rich coming from you."
"Excuse me?" Henry's expression hardens, eyebrows furrowed.
"You ignored me for an entire semester when we met."
Henry blinks. "What?"
"At Nora's party, freshman year," Alex says. "I tried talking to you like three separate times and you looked at me like I personally insulted you every time."
Henry stares at him, a light blush covering his cheeks.
"I—" He stops, looking down at his hands. "I was nervous."
Alex actually laughs.
"No, seriously," Henry says, visibly uncomfortable. "June had spent two weeks talking about how absolutely talented and smart her little brother was, but I wasn't expecting… you."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"You were pre-law student senate and arguing with professors recreationally, all while looking like that," he says, throwing his hands toward him.
Alex stares at him in disbelief, shaking his head with a slight scoff.
"You were always making eye contact like you were trying to win."
Alex opens his mouth and closes it again. He can't say that wasn't true. But what can he say, he's competitive, god forbid.
Henry is looking anywhere but at him. "Then you started making little digs at me."
"Well," Alex says weakly, "you seemed rude, and you couldn't even make eye contact with me."
"I thought you hated me."
"How could you think that when we quite literally had our tongues down each others throats a couple months after we met," Alex says. "Behind June's back, mind you."
Henry flinches, head jerking up toward Alex, mouth slightly agape. He regrets saying it immediately.
"Are you not remembering the after-math of that, Alex?"
The memory of that disastrous almost-hookup before summer flashes ugly and sharp between them; vodka on Henry's breath, Alex's hands in his hair, the horrible words they'd thrown at each other during it. Words laced in something like fear, but both too stubborn to let down. Something shifts in Henry's expression, like he's remembering at the same time.
For a moment, neither of them say anything. Thunder rumbles as the rain hammers down onto the window and against the roof, filling the silence heavy between them.
Alex's eyes are on Henry, he looks soft, all tired and pink-cheeked. Alex suddenly understands, with startling clarity, why he kissed him back that night.
"I thought you hated me," Alex says, the words echoing Henry's.
"I hated how good you looked," Henry says quietly, looking up at him.
"Hm," Alex hums, smirking. "And you felt brave enough to kiss me."
"I'm just a man, Vodka makes me weak," Henry replies, a smile teasing his lips.
Alex laughs at that.
He remembers the way Henry pulled him into an empty closet, the way their mouths slotted so perfectly together, the way he laughed against his lips, but how quickly it turned around, sharp words being thrown at each other.
"I'm sorry," Alex says, genuine.
Henry smiles at him, a small laugh leaving his lips. "I'm sorry too."
Alex laughs with him. He didn't think banging on his window at one am would lead them here.
"You know," Alex starts, standing up from the chair and walking toward him. "I thought you regretted it."
Henry watches him closely, "I regretted how it ended."
Alex's heart stutters in his chest as he sits beside him on the bed. Henry turns his body slightly toward him. Thunder rumbles loudly through the window, startling them both slightly.
Alex studies him, he's close enough now that Alex can see the faint freckles scattered across his nose and the slight mole sitting carefully above his lip, that Alex so desperately wants to kiss.
"I feel like we've wasted the past year and a half due to catastrophic communication failure."
Henry huffs a laugh. "Apparently so."
"That's honestly kind of humiliating for us."
"For you, certainly."
"Oh, there he is," Alex says, laughing. "I was worried the condescending asshole version of Henry Fox had got lost in the storm."
Henry's eyes narrow, though there's no real heat in it anymore. "Well he certainly wasn't out for a run."
"Ha Ha."
"You are in my room wearing my clothes, Diaz."
"And wearing them beautifully."
"You're impossible," Henry grins, shaking his head softly.
Henry looks down first, gaze flicking briefly to Alex's mouth before darting away so quickly he almost misses it completely.
Alex looks down at their hands leaning gently on the bed below them, he shuffles his hand toward Henry's slightly, letting their fingers brush lightly.
Henry watches carefully, lifting his head up slowly, eyes glistening in the low light.
Henry's breath catches.
"Alex—"
A loud rumble bursts through the windows when they're suddenly plunged into darkness.
There's a beat of silence before Alex bursts out into laughter.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."
Henry groans. "Guess the storm killed the power."
"Imagine you left me out there to fend for myself Fox, June would kill you."
"Shut up," Henry replies jokingly slapping his arm.
Henry's smile grows, small and crooked and devastatingly real.
The room is lit only by the silver flashes of lightning beyond the window. Every few seconds the storm illuminates Henry in fragments; the slope of his nose, the soft hair laying messily over his forehead, the outline of his mouth.
Alex becomes painfully aware of how close they are right now.
"You laughed at me," Henry says, suddenly.
Alex blinks. "What?"
"That night." Henry looks down briefly, their hands still ghosting each others. "After I said I couldn't think properly around you."
Alex stomach twists.
"I wasn't laughing at you," he says, quieter now.
Henry raises an eyebrow like he doesn't believe him.
"I panic when things get real," Alex admits. "You were saying all this—" he gestures between them, "I didn't know what to do with it, considering I thought you fucking hated me."
Henry lets out a soft breath through his nose. "So you called me pathetic."
"No I didn't," Alex frowns.
"Maybe I jumped to the wrong conclusions," Henry shrugs.
"I think you did, Hen," Alex replies, thumb tracing the back of Henry's hand ever so lightly.
Henry looks up at him through the flashes of lightning, eyes wide and full of curiosity. Alex thinks about how Henry is always so composed in public, all quiet politeness and careful words. Alex hadn't realized how much he just wants to take this man in his hands and kiss him silly.
The realization lands badly. He shifts closer without really meaning too. Henry notices, his gaze flicking to Alex's mouth, staying there this time.
Thunder cracks loudly somewhere overhead, neither of them flinching this time.
Henry shifts forward a bit more, giving Alex enough time to pull away if he wants to.
He doesn't.
"Alex," Henry whispers, almost cautious. "If I kiss you again, are we going to fight after it?"
"I don't know," he admits. "But I'd quite like to find out."
He lifts a hand up to Henry's face, caressing his cheek lightly. Henry is watching him for a long moment, like he's deciding whether to trust it. Whether to trust Alex.
The storm presses close around them, rain rattling against the glass, as the dark room feels like its narrowing down to just the two of them, both breathing a little too carefully.
Alex's heart is beating embarrassingly fast.
Yeah, they've already kissed before, but this feels different. This is different.
Henry's hand lifts slowly, hesitating halfway. Warm fingers brush lightly against his wrist, curling gently around it. The touch sends a sharp pulse of heat straight through him.
"You're staring," Alex murmurs, mostly because the silence is becoming unbearable.
Henry's mouth tilts faintly. "You're nervous."
"I'm never nervous."
"Liar."
Alex opens his mouth to argue, but Henry grabs his face and kisses him. Their lips slot together like the last two puzzle pieces waiting for that completion. It's a soft, careful pressure, enough to completely steal the air from his lungs instantly.
Alex makes a quiet, involuntary sound into the kiss, which makes Henry freeze and start to pull away slowly.
Alex grabs the front of his sweater and kisses him back properly, the careful restraint disappears almost immediately.
Henry's hand slides up into Alex's damp curls, tilting his head back as the kiss deepens, and suddenly it's all heat and breath and months of unresolved tension crashing open at once.
Alex pushes him back onto the bed, lips still glued together like their life depends on it. Alex's hands slide down Henry's waist, dipping under his sweatshirt and squeezing his waist lightly.
Their mouths only part long enough to breathe before coming back together again, slower this time, lingering gently.
Henry exhales shakily against his lips. "Christ, Alex."
Alex laughs softly, breathless. "Yeah, okay, so maybe we should've done this sooner."
Henry's eyes flutter shut as he leans his forehead against Alex's. He lifts his head up slightly, leaving a small kiss on Henry's nose. He watches as a small smile forms on Henry's lips, so gentle and real.
His eyes flutter back open, looking up at Alex. His expression feels desperate but open in a way Alex has never seen before. No sarcasm, no hatred. Just warmth and something that looks alarmingly close to affection.
Henry kisses like he's trying very hard to stay controlled.
The carefulness in the way he touches him, the measured breaths, the restraint threaded through every movement like Henry's holding himself back on purpose. Which, naturally, makes Alex wants to ruin him a little.
"You're thinking too much," Alex murmurs against his lips.
Henry exhales a quiet laugh. "I'm always thinking too much."
"Tragic flaw."
"So I've been told."
Alex kisses him again before he can retreat behind another joke.
He feels the exact moment Henry melts into it, the tension leaving his shoulders and the soft sound in the back of his throat when Alex's hands slide along his jaw and back down to his waist.
"You're so beautiful," Alex whispers.
Henry blushes beneath him, his hands running up Alex's torso, tightly gripping his sweatshirt to pull him impossibly close.
Alex grabs the bottom of Henry's sweatshirt, lifting it carefully above his head before tossing it across the room.
He leans back down, meeting Henry in the middle. He kisses him carefully, before pulling away, leaving light kisses down his neck, all the way down his chest, toward his hips. He glances up at Henry's face, he's looking down at him with so much pleasure Alex might actually die.
Alex slowly blinks his eyes open to warmth and the sound of rain pattering softly on the window. For a moment, he stayed still beneath the heavy blankets, disoriented by the unfamiliar quiet and the dim gray morning light filtering through the curtains.
He lets out a low sigh as he turns onto his side, only to come face to face with his so-called arch nemesis asleep beside him. Henry's fringe is tousled from sleep, one arm tucked beneath the pillow, his expression frustratingly soft in the pale morning light.
Alex stares at him for a moment too long, the deeply emotionally compromising turn in his life apparently took sometime around two in the morning. He also has the absolute horrifying realization that this might genuinely be the prettiest anyone has ever fucking looked.
Henry shifts slightly under the blankets, brows furrowing before his eyes blink open slowly. He pauses briefly while he registers the man beside him.
"Oh shit."
Alex snorts immediately. "Good morning to you too, Your Majesty."
Henry groans softly and drags a hand down his face. "You're still here."
"You say that like I broke in and refused to leave."
Henry glances at him sideways. "Technically… you did."
"Well, seems you enjoyed my company last night," Alex replies, moving a bit of stray hair from Henry's eyes.
He peers at Alex through half-asleep eyes, a soft smile on his face. "What time is it?"
Alex grabs his phone from the bedside table. "Eight-thirty."
Henry makes a miserable sound and drops his face back into his pillow. Alex lets out a soft laugh before he can stop himself. The sound earns him a glare from the blonde boy nestled beside him.
"You seem suspiciously cheerful for someone who spent last night verbally sparring through a power outage."
"Well," Alex smiles, "I discovered you're secretly awkward and emotionally available. It's been very exciting for me."
Henry closes his eyes. "I take it back, leave."
Alex grins, neither of them make any actual effort to move. Quiet settles between them as the realization sits between them. Alex stayed, and Henry let him.
He listens to the rain and traffic outside, while inside Henry's room feels dangerously domestic and warm. Alex becomes abruptly aware that they're sharing a bed. Not only are they sharing a bed, they're both naked as fuck.
Henry seems rather aware of it too.
His gaze flicks briefly toward Alex's mouth before returning up to the ceiling.
"So," Alex says carefully, "are we going to pretend none of this happened?"
Henry is quiet for a second.
"No," he says finally, voice still rough with sleep. "I don't think I want to."
Alex's chest flutters. "I don't think I do either."
Henry turns to him fully now.
"Will June kill us?"
"Maybe," Alex starts, "but, I'm sure she'd rather us fucking than fighting, sweetheart."
Henry scrunches his nose in disgust. "Christ Alex, have some decorum."
Alex laughs loudly and crowds over Henry's space, leaving a ghost of a kiss on his forehead.
"It's the truth, baby."
Henry shivers lightly at that.
"Baby, huh," Alex smirks, "I'll keep that in mind."
A month passes in a blur of late nights and diffused boundaries. Alex finishes the last of his assignments for the year somewhere between library study sessions and sneaking into Henry's apartment after midnight, their once-hostile dynamic fizzing out into something quieter and passionate. They fall into an unspoken routine with alarming ease; bickering over coffee and tea, sarcastic remarks in crowded lecture halls, teasing texts, then kissing like starving men the second they're alone.
Somehow, despite the secrecy and the constant risk of getting caught, the past month becomes the happiest Alex has felt in a long time, which is precisely the problem.
It's a late evening in July when Alex is sitting on the kitchen counter in Henry's apartment, sleeves shoved up to his elbows, one of Henry's hands resting absentmindedly on his thigh while they bicker about which Star Wars movie is better, (obviously it's The Empire Strikes).
"You're just so wrong, Alex," Henry states, squeezing his thigh lightly.
Alex smiles at him, gripping the front of his shirt and wrapping his legs around his back.
"Guess its up to debate, sweetheart," Alex whispers sweetly before pulling Henry into a messy kiss, mainly to shut him up, but also because he looks hot as fuck.
Henry let's out a small noise in surprise before melting into this kiss, running his hand up into Alex's curls, tugging slightly.
Henry is saying something low and amusing against Alex's lips, one hand warm on his waist, when the front door unlocks with a soft metallic click somewhere down the hall.
Neither of them notice.
Alex is too busy laughing quietly into the kiss, fingers tangled in the front of Henry's sweater, legs still wrapped around his back. The apartment smells faintly of Alex's coffee and cologne and Henry's tea and books, and after a month of stolen nights and secret touches they've become pretty careless. Or comfortable.
A laugh slips from Alex when henry bites lightly at his bottom lip.
"Asshole," Alex murmurs, smiling.
"You love it," Henry hums against his mouth.
Down the hall, the apartment door swings open. Voices drift inside, muffled behind the sound of Alex's pulse pounding in his ears.
Still, neither of them hear.
Henry's hand slides beneath the hem of Alex's shirt, fingertips brushing his warm skin. Alex tilts his head back instinctively—
"Henry, I swear to fucking god if you've stolen my charger again I will—"
June's voice cuts off abruptly, the words dying instantly.
Silence takes over the apartment instantly.
Alex jerks back so fast he smacks his head on the cabinet behind him, Henry's hand disappears from beneath his shirt like he's been burned.
June is frozen in the doorway, one hand curled tightly around the strap of her bag. Beside her, Nora stares at them with an expression of perfect, horrifying comprehension, almost like she knew.
Alex is convinced not a single person in that room is even breathing right now, the silence is utterly deafening.
He becomes painfully aware of every detail at once. His hands still gripping Henry's sweater, Henry's perfect lips all pink and kiss-swollen and the fact he's literally wearing Henry's clothes, which is obvious to everyone because as much as he hates to admit, Henry is taller than him.
Oh they are caught caught.
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
Alex opens his mouth automatically. "June—"
"No," she says immediately, holding up a hand. "Absolutely not. I need a second, because what the hell am I looking at right now."
Henry, to his credit, looks almost as shell-shocked as Alex feels right now.
Nora raises and eyebrow, letting out a light sigh and setting her coffee down on the counter besides the door without taking her eyes off them.
"How long?" she asks.
Alex and Henry glance at each other briefly, which was obviously a mistake as Nora's eyes narrow. "Oh my god."
"It's not—" Henry starts.
"A month," Alex says at the exact same time.
Alex turns to him in betrayal. "It's not what, Henry?"
June makes a strangled noise somewhere between outrage and disbelief.
"You two hate each other!"
"That's what I said," Alex replies weakly.
Nora folds her arms tightly across her chest. "Well, there it is."
Alex blinks. "There — what?"
Nora points vaguely between them. "Whatever the hell this has been for the last month."
June turns to her slowly. "You knew?"
"I didn't know, I had a theory."
"A theory?" Alex repeats weakly.
Nora fixes him with a look. "Please, Alex, you've been acting fucking insane."
"That is incredibly vague criticism," Alex says, crossing his arms.
"You disappeared every night for two weeks straight," Nora continues, counting on her fingers now. "You suddenly stopped complaining about Henry as much, and even when you were complaining, it was in the I want to fuck him kind of way."
Henry lets out a noise that suspiciously resembles a laugh.
Alex points accusingly at him. "Don't encourage her, Fox."
June's jaw drops as she looks at Henry. "Oh my god."
Henry looks genuinely horrified. "Was it that obvious?"
"To me?" Nora says. "Painfully, but I see straight through Alex's bullshit."
Alex scoffs, dropping his face briefly into his hands, rubbing his eyes.
June is still staring between them like she's trying to solve a murder mystery.
"No," she says finally. "No, because you two genuinely seemed like you wanted to kill each other."
"That part was real," Alex shrugs.
Henry folds his arms. "You're difficult to like peacefully."
"And yet here you are."
Their eyes meet automatically, the crinkles by their eyes forming as they smile to each other like they're the only people on earth.
June notices it immediately.
"Oh, this is disgusting," she says.
Nora snorts loudly, leaning against the doorway, studying them both with narrowed eyes. There's amusement there now beneath the exasperation.
"Okay," she says slowly. "I need to know one thing."
Alex already hates that damn tone. "What?"
"Was the hatred foreplay?"
Henry chokes.
June scrunches her nose making a noise of disgust.
Alex feels heat crawl violently up his neck. "Nora, what the fuck?"
"That means yes," she laughs.
"Why didn't you tell us," June asks, ignoring Nora's giggles beside her.
"We weren't exactly hiding it from you specifically," Alex says weakly.
June gestures wildly toward them. "You were hiding it from everyone, psycho behavior by the way."
Henry rubs a hand over his face, visibly exhausted. "In fairness, this wasn't exactly intentional."
Nora raises an eyebrow. "You accidentally started making out regularly?"
There's a slight pause as Henry and Alex look at each other. A small laugh slipping from both their lips.
June stares between them.
"Blame the storm," Alex says, a smirk plastered on his face.
It's past midnight when June and Nora leave Henry's apartment, finally coming to terms of their so called relationship. The front door clicks behind them, followed by June's muffled, scandalized voice somewhere in the hallway.
Alex exhales dramatically as he collapses sideways across the couch, legs draped over Henry's thighs without thinking about it. The movement feels absurdly natural now. Henry settles beside him, letting his fingers gently circle patterns on Alex's legs.
"You know," Alex says, staring at the ceiling, "that could've gone significantly worse."
Henry let's out a soft laugh. "June did threaten bodily harm."
"Older sister duties."
"She called me emotionally manipulative."
"Well," Alex says thoughtfully, "you do read nineteenth-century novels recreationally."
Henry nudges his calf lightly. "Cruel."
Alex grins lazily and lets one hand drift down, tangling his fingers in with Henry's. For a while neither of them say anything, Henry's thumb brushes back and fourth on Alex's ankle but his mind runs wild as he listens to the light rain tapping on the window, it feels full circle for them.
"What were you gonna say back there?" Alex asks, almost a whisper.
"When?" Henry asks.
"It's not what?"
"I—" Henry starts, taking a deep breath. "I was going to say It's not what it looks like."
Alex's brows furrow.
"But," he continues, "It's exactly what it looks like."
Henry takes a deep breath, looking over at Alex.
"I am utterly, deeply in love with you."
The world seems to stop. Alex stares at him, he's not entirely sure he's actually breathing.
A faint smile pulls at Henry's mouth, but it fades quickly as he notices Alex isn't actually saying anything back.
"What?" Alex says finally, because apparently all higher brain function as left his body.
Henry let's out a small exhale. "I'm sorry I—"
"No, hold on," Alex says quickly, pushing himself upright too fast. "You cannot just casually say something life-altering while I'm horizontal."
Henry's cheeks flush pink.
"I just want you to know," Alex says quietly, his hand coming up to gently cup Henry's jaw, "I love you too."
Henry goes completely still. Alex feels the sharp inhale more than he hears it.
For a second, Henry looks at him like he doesn't really know what to do with the confession, like the words have hit him somewhere deep and vulnerable inside of him. His eyes shine and lips part slightly as he stares at Alex. It almost looks like he could cry.
It's nothing but the overwhelming look of relief on Henry's face.
"Oh," Henry says, barely above a whisper.
Alex's chest aches painfully at the sound.
"Oh?" he echoes softly, smiling a little.
Henry lets out a shaky laugh, one hand covering Alex's where it still rests against his face. "I had a significantly better speech planned in my head for this."
"Well," Alex murmurs, leaning closer, "good thing I'm deeply charmed by emotional incompetence."
Henry laughs again, quieter this time, and closes his eyes briefly as he presses his forehead against Alex's.
When Henry opens his eyes again, there's still that overwhelmed softness in them, like Alex has handed him something so fragile and impossible. It makes Alex's chest feel unbearably full and heavy.
"Come here," Henry murmurs.
Alex laughs under his breath. "I'm literally on top of you."
"Closer."
He shifts forward, smile plastered on his face, one hand sliding into Henry's ruffled hair as he leans in.
This kiss feels nothing like the others. It's not frantic or messy, just warm and full of love.
Henry kisses him slowly, like he has all the time in the world, one hand settling on the side of Alex's neck while the other stays wrapped carefully around his waist.
Alex melts into it helplessly. Because this, this is somehow more intimate than any desperate making out against kitchen counters or tangled bed sheets. The way Henry kisses him like he's no longer afraid Alex might disappear afterward.
Alex realizes with certainty, that this is the safest and happiest he's ever felt with another person.