Alex's retort comes a week or so later.

Pez and Bea have finally succeeded in persuading Henry to join them in Australia for the winter, and Henry's actually been enjoying himself for once; Phillip opted to stay in England, to 'maintain the royal image' or something, and now he's officially on holiday, Henry's been excused from any extra public appearances, apart from the odd photo shoot that Bea says is so the rest of the world knows he's still alive.

Henry really couldn't care less if the world thought him dead.

The instant they'd landed, Pez had started his campaign for Henry to try surfing, and Henry had finally agreed, the hot weather putting him in too good a mood to refuse. They change in the back of one of the train of security cars that had followed them to the beach, and as Henry squeezes himself into an itchy wetsuit, cursing Pez and his stupid whims all the while, his phone buzzes and he whips it out, pulling up his messages and smiling, heart almost missing a beat when he sees it's from Alex: it's a snap of a People newspaper headline, a horrendous picture of Henry posed on a beach he'd visited a few days ago. He makes a face at the screen, then reads the caption below the spread:

He can't help it; he lets out a peal of laughter, then runs off to join Pez on the beach.

"You're in a good mood." Pez remarks with a smirk as Henry races up to meet him, feet sinking into the damp sand.

"Yeah, well." Henry tips his head back and laughs at Pez's bemused expression. "Come on. D'you want to surf or not?"

***

Huddled in the living room of their rented house, cradling a mug of tea in his hands, wet hair flopping into his face, Henry scrolled through his google alerts, searching for a suitable come-back to Alex's remark on inbreeding. He finds one and takes a screenshot, sending it and tapping out a caption. The headline sends a little jolt through Henry, but he quickly dismisses it as fake news.

It's a Daily Mail tweet, that reads 'Is Alex Claremont-Diaz going to be a father?'

he types, then sends it.

***

On the plane back, Henry takes a seat next to Pez, across from Bea, with Shaan, who had arrived on an earlier plane for the sole purpose of chaperoning them (though Henry's sure he just wanted to get away from the rain and gloom of England in winter), behind him. His equerry is in the middle of a heated discussion with someone on the other end of a phone, but there's a smile on his face and a little colour in his cheeks. Henry stares at him- Shaan showing any kind of emotions is new, and Henry decides it's not his business.

Everyone's entitled to their own secrets.

He should know about secrets. They're tricky things; they eat you up from the inside until you're only a hollow mask of a person, stumbling through your life without really living. That's what it feels like for him some days; like he's this person in a stranger's skin. Like nothing he does will ever change that fact, and he'll always be a paper person- fake, two dimensional and flimsy.

Alex is the exact opposite of that. He's so alive all the time; so completely himself; so obviously comfortable in his own skin, so sure of himself, so totally certain where he's going, what he's doing. Henry wonders what it would feel like to be like that.

To be so achingly sure of everything.