***

"H?" Alex's voice jerks Henry out of his listless daze; eyes tracing imaginary constellations on the ceiling. "You awake?"

His voice is rough with sleep, and low, and a hot rush of breath escapes his lips, as Henry gatherers himself together enough to reply:

"Always."

That single word brings back a flood of memories- the flash of Bea's bright smile, teasing him over her discovery of his newfound crush-

Wait, no.

Love.

What he and Alex have is so much more than just a crush. They feel so much more than boyfriends, so much more than a movie-type love story.

Alex knows every inch of Henry's soul, and Henry has committed the map of his heart to memory.

They have every inch of each others' bodies down to the finest detail; the sprinkling of moles on Alex's back, the adorable curl of hair at the nap of his neck that stubbornly refuses to stay put without copious amounts of hairspray, the slightly crooked front tooth when Alex smiles that reduces Henry's insides to molten fire.

He flashes that smile now; the soft thud of feet against the floorboards as his warm grip closes around Henry's wrist and he's led blearily out of bed.

Alex is in Henry's own clothes; heather grey shirt and shorts, his curls are perfectly messed up, eyes gleaming with mischief, and Henry almost can't take it. A giddy laugh bubbles up in his chest, and echoes around the kitchen tiles; Alex slamming a hand down over his mouth as they pad outside, where the air is thick and lazy, and alight with fireflies.

They sneak past a dozing PPO, and then there's long grass scratching at their legs, and Alex breaks into a run; never letting go of Henry's hand, until they reach the pier.

The moon is high and bright tonight; its face reflected in the rippling lake water, stirred by a caressing breeze. He laughs freely now; spinning around with his arms stretched out and eyes squeezed shut, and a few beats later, Alex joins in.

His heart is beating almost out of his chest, he's high on the sound of their voices mingling together, carrying across the still water all the way to the swaying trees on the other side. When Henry opens his eyes again, his eyes are trained on the stars. Right above him, his eyes find Orion, a twinkling trail set among the velvet.

His mind cuts back to the fiery heat of the New Year's Eve party, the suffocating bodies, the overwhelming voices. Bare foot, his toes dig into the lakeside soil. And Henry thinks- he thinks: he's never felt more free.

Then a hand brushes his shoulder, and Alex's fingers draw him along the faded planks, towards the end of the pier. Water ripples below them, and Henry watches with an arched eyebrow as Alex's shirt goes sailing over his head, back down the pier. The skin of his back looks so smooth, cast into alternate shadows and light by the moon, and Henry's throat constricts suddenly, so that it becomes hard to breathe.

Alex shucks his boxers- Henry fights the urge to stare- and then, with one last, wild, pulse-jumping laugh, he jumps. There's a splash, and Henry darts back to avoid the spray kicked up in his wake.

"You're a menace," he chokes out, when Alex breaks the surface; all tangled, dripping hair and bright eyes and waterdrops rolling down the unbroken surface of his chest. Alex makes a brief gesture for Henry to join him, then kicks off; reappearing a safe distance away in the water.

With a contented sigh, Henry strips off his clothes, leaving them in a heap at his feet just as he pushes off from the pier, in a graceful dive hard-won through years of torturous swimming lessons overseen by a reluctant Shaan- the sight of him in a lifeguard's outfit will haunt Henry for the rest of his life.

When Henry emerges again, shaking water from his eyes, Alex sends a wave of water in his direction, and he sinks back down again; spluttering indignantly.

"Can't you ever just do one thing without having to be so goddamn extra about it?" Alex complains; pouting adorably and tipping his head to one side to empty water out of his ears.

"That is bloody rich coming from you," Henry grins, and Alex elbows him fondly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Alex says; turning onto his back to kick at Henry with a smirk.

Alex tugs them into the middle of the lake; they dive under the surface and splash each other, and Alex grabs his leg and pulls them together in the water, and Henry's laughing like he's never laughed before- and that word is there all the time, spinning round inside of him: free.

Henry is free.

And he's never been happier.

He cuts through the water with swift, strong strokes as Alex flounders after him, cursing his name with a passion that makes Henry want to do unspeakable things to him.

Soon, Alex grabs him around the waist and yanks him towards him, and Henry lets out an involuntary gasp as he's pinned down, warm lips sliding over his racing pulse until Henry ascends to a whole other level of in love.

When Alex pulls away an infinitesimal amount, Henry aches all over from the distance.

"Hey," Alex breathes; their noses almost touching, barely any space between their bodies at all. Water rolls off Henry's cheeks, and he tastes it in his mouth, along with Alex's hot breath. He smells like smoke and fire and wood and guitars on porches at night.

And he's all Henry's.

It's getting increasingly hard not to kiss him.

"Hi," he manages, not moving an inch as his brain runs haywire with images of all the things he could do to Alex right now.

Then they're even further apart, Henry's lungs return to their normal capacity, and Alex is kicking a slow, languid circle around him.

"You look good out here." Henry's breath hitches again, and he tackles Alex and pulls him close as he grins shyly; dipping down so his lips brush the faintest of kisses along Alex's jaw.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Alex whispers right in his ear. Henry shudders as he twists his soaking hair around his fingers, possessively. "I'm glad you came this weekend."

Henry bites his tongue, holding back from spilling how glad he is, too. He doesn't want to ruin this moment- ruin this perfect, unbroken night, but burdening the stars with emotion.

It's a feeling he's all too familiar with- in interviews, sprinkling in seeds of truth, always having to hold back his real thoughts on anything and everything. At home, he always watches his words; catches himself before he crumbles to shards of tears on the marble floor. It's safer this way- no one holds this secret part of him, the one that actually feels, the one that's drowning in emotion, and crying out for help.

Except... what about Alex?

Alex.

He's certainly cracking open his heart for Henry- this flood of tangled dreams comes stumbling out, and Henry hears them.

And he listens.

And he thinks: Alex lives without fear of consequence. He lives without thinking, without pause for sense to kick in- with nothing to pull him back from the brink of collapse. And it sounds amazing.

And it makes Henry want to slam him against a wall and make out with him until the end of time.

But also... it scares him. So, so much.

To Henry, everything matters so much. His whole life has been carefully constructed around making others happy; pose for this picture, make the public happy; squash down who you really are, make your family proud. It's so, so hard to let go of all of that.

"It will matter, you know. It will always matter," he finds himself saying. Alex pulls back, and a pang answers in Henry's chest. Both their lips are cut in curving frowns. And Henry made Alex sad- made him frown- silenced that perfect, perfect laughter. He wants to die.

The rest of their conversation fades into a blur, until-

"I'm thinking maybe I should start trying to take it day by day. And just... feel what I feel." Henry's stunned into silence. The words are shocked out of his mouth, more water is trickling down his face- or are they tears?

He thinks bemusedly, beneath all the confusion, beneath the churning of his mind; Alex has jarred the words out of a writer.

How extraordinary.

How very Alex-like.

The water ripples quietly around them, as Alex slides his hands up to cup Henry's face between them, tracing the outlines of his cheekbones with a gentle touch.

"Sweetheart." The word hangs, suspended in the night air.

A breath whistles from between Alex's teeth. Henry becomes aware of the gentle humming of crickets in the long grass around them, the rustling of the trees, the faint strains of Annie's Song still echoing in his head.

"Henry, I-" He wonders if Alex can feel the tears tracing tracks down his cheeks.

And abruptly, he needs air- he needs space, to be away from this overwhelming silence between them, to clear the mess of thoughts from his head.

He ducks under the surface of the water, and resurfaces next to the pier, spitting out lake water and slapping at a cloud of mosquitoes that swarm him immediately.

"Christ," he tries to summon up an ounce of who he was a few minutes ago; racing down the pier without a care in the world. He'd been free then. Now, the invisible shackles are biting into his wrists yet again. "What are these infernal creatures?"

"Mosquitos," Alex chips in; his voice a shade of disappointment that makes Henry's insides squirm with suppressed guilt.

"They're awful- I'm going to catch an exotic plague." Alex laughs weakly, but Henry stays silent.

He can tell Alex has picked up on; the careful, pointed breeziness to his words. The mask he puts up for the press, for the rest of the world to see, sliding into place as easily as blinking.

"At any rate, I'm knackered," he's saying; dragging himself out of the water and tugging his clothes back on; trying to ignore the pressure of Alex's eyes on his back. His legs are shaking- and not just from the cold- and though they're outside, it feels like the walls are closing in one him.

Everything is so fast, and so slow at the same time.

Everything is just...

He just needs to get away.

The planks of the pier poke at his damp feet as he calls back over his shoulder; struggling to keep the wobble out of his voice, as cracks splinter his mask into pieces.

"If it's all the same to you, I think I'll go to bed."

***

The house is silent, and empty when he returns to it.

Soaking footprints track his progress through the house. He spots Oscar in the kitchen; cradling a glass bottle with his feet up on the table. One brief exchange of nods later, Henry is back in his room- their room.

Alex's bed covers are messy and discarded on the floor, and he steps carefully over them on his way to his own bunk. Shivering, dripping wet and exhausted, he tumbles into bed as he is; back to the door.

Face planted firmly in a pillow, Henry sniffs, eyes bleeding out salt as he curls into a ball, and wills himself to sleep.

A few minutes later, he's aware of Alex padding in, pausing in the doorway to look him over. Henry ignores him determinedly, and soon enough, the sound of Alex's deep breaths lulls Henry into an echoing sleep.

***

He's woken early in the morning by strange noises coming from the direction of June and Nora's room, and, rubbing his eyes blearily, Henry gathers his things, scrawls down a note, and heads into the kitchen.

No one's there, but the remains of Oscar's bottle sit on the table, so he takes a swig to fortify himself.

Outside, Henry clears his throat until the PPO supposedly guarding the porch awakes with a splutter- and, a few pleading phone calls later, Henry is sitting in the back of a black-out car; head against the window, and regret in his heart.

The imprint of Alex's lips lingers on his neck.