"Pez? What are you doing here?

"Good morning to you too, Your Royal Grumpiness." Henry's best friend, Pez, peels himself away from where he's been slumped against the door, to throw himself down on the bed and plant his face squarely in the pillows.

"What time is it?" Henry blinks- weak light streams in through his open curtains and the sky outside looks an unpromising grey.

"I don't know. I've been here for, like, hours, though." Pez jerks back upright, as Henry tugs off the bed covers and pads across the bedroom floor, sitting heavily in the chair in front of his desk, sighing.

"Why? What on earth are you here for? It's probably 6am or something." Pez pauses, leaning forwards on his elbows and surveying Henry's tousled, sleepy state.

"Bea called." Henry lets his breath out in a whoosh.

"Right. What'd she say?" Pez shrugs, and the movement sends a ripple of blinding light straight into Henry's eyes from the hundreds of sequins adorning the shoulders of the neon pink blazer Pez is wearing.

"She's worried 'bout you."

"I'm fine." Henry says flatly. He's glad Pez is here, really- he could do with forgetting about the rest of his messed up life for a while, and Pez is great at doing that- at making him forget everything else and live in the moment. It's why they're friends, he supposes.

"Really?" Pez eyes him critically, and Henry runs a hand through his hair self consciously, ratcheting his posture back upright and attempting unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.

"Where were you last night?" His eyes narrow in suspicion and Henry rifles through his mind to come up with a plausible enough excuse. He comes up with nothing, and splays his hands out in front of him desperately.

"Nowhere?"

It's not that he doesn't trust Pez, or likes keeping things from him- it makes a pang of guilt run through him- it's just that the V&A is his secret. Henry doesn't get to keep many secrets, and the few he has, he treasures and guards closely. It would be nice, he thinks, to have someone to go to the museum with him. Someone he loves, someone who won't break the spell it always casts on him. Someone that won't ruin the place for Henry, like he's scared anyone else will. He clings on desperately to that dream, but he just hasn't found the right person yet.

"Come on, Henry. Where were you really?"

"Somewhere."

"Fine," Pez throws his hands up, "Alright, you stubborn bastard. Have your way, then." Henry smiles despite himself as Pez pouts dramatically, sequins glittering blindingly again.

"So," Pez pauses theatrically, and Henry sighs and rolls his eyes, "You wanna watch Star Wars?"

"Always." Pez laughs gleefully and grabs up Henry's laptop from the bedside table, shoving it at him demandingly. Henry's just pulling up Return of the Jedi when there's an insistent bark at the door and a few seconds later, David noses it open, bounding onto the bed and claiming Henry's lap as his own, with a little snuffle of contentment. Henry nearly falls backwards in surprise, then laughs at himself and shuffles on the bed so that David's needle-like claws stick somewhere other than his thigh.

They spend the next hour or two watching the film- at some point David had moved from Henry's lap to Pez's, and Mr Wobbles had snuck in as well and settled himself down between them, purring like mad and stretching and yawning widely every few minutes. On the laptop screen, Luke and Leia have just been kidnapped by the ewoks, and the camera cuts to a close up of one of them- Chief Chirpa- and Henry has an idea. He signals for Pez to pause the film, and he grabs his phone, scrolling down to the 'A' section in his contacts, pulling open the chat and snapping a picture of the screen.

he taps out, then,

Pez leans over his shoulder, making groping motions for the phone, and Henry hastily shuts it off, head already filled with imaginary scenarios of Alex getting his text- Alex not getting his text, Alex being mad at him, Alex just not replying at all, Alex hating him more than ever, Alex.

He notices vaguely that Pez has played the film again, and the adorable sound of tiny, pissed off ewoks is filling the air, but he only looks back down at the phone in his hands, wondering over and over if he should delete the text- if he sounds too accusing, or too needy and pathetic. He turns his phone on about a hundred times, easy to erase his message, but something always stops him; maybe the same thing that forces images of Alex into his mind when he's stressed out or sad, when he needs strength, and it frightens Henry as much as it enthrals him.

Love is a strange thing.