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    Alex frantically unlocks his phone and stares at their text thread, at the heart reaction that Henry had left on his most recent message. His thumbs hover uselessly over his screen, trembling as moisture burns his vision. The entire room is thick with uneasiness, heavy enough that it’s hard to breathe, and Alex wants to tell Henry something, wants to reach out and find the solace that Henry so often offers him without even realizing it.

    But mostly, as his brain finally catches up to what’s actually happening, all Alex can think is that he doesn’t want to die.

    He tries to come up with a list of reasons why in his head, a comprehensive one that probably should include family and career goals and a million other things, but in the end, in the moment, all he can fucking think about is Henry.

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    29 Mar 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    He hasn’t heard from him in almost a year.

    Hesitant, he says, “Henry?”

    There’s a sniffle. “Alex.”

    Alex’s shoulders go taut with tension; he may not have heard from him in a year and had only seen him in tabloids and the occasional interview or ribbon cutting on a shitty stream that Alex had no business being on, but he hasn’t forgotten Henry’s tells. He hasn’t forgotten the edge to his voice on his dark days; the way it clings to the very molecules of air surrounding him, as if it wishes to seep into every ounce of air he dares breathe in.

    Alex swallows, sets his highlighter down. “Henry,” he says carefully, “what’s going on?”

    -

    Or, a year after Henry tells Alex to leave, he does something unthinkable.

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    24 Mar 2026

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    The first time Henry sees it happen, he knows instantly that it is not the first time it has ever happened. They’re sitting in the living room of the brownstone, the two of them surrounded by their favorite people in the world, a night of board games long abandoned in favor of mocking the eighth season of Game of Thrones.

    “God, don’t you have an off switch?” June groans, laughing as she chucks a piece of popcorn in Alex’s direction while he rambles passionately about the international legal implications of the Red Wedding. Nora cackles. “Whatever you do to thank Henry for putting up with you, it’s not nearly enough. Jesus, I can’t believe he put a ring on your loud mouth.”

    Or: Alex is fine. Really, he’s fine — he just wants Henry to stay, even if Alex is too much. Henry just wants his husband back.

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    23 Mar 2026

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    Shane’s eyes snap open. Wait a second.

    “Ilya,” Shane says, propping himself up on his elbows. “Ilya, wake up.”

    Ilya makes a pained noise, eyes still shut. “I shut curtains already.”

    “It’s not that. Ilya, hey. Don’t go back to sleep.” Ilya tries to bury back into Shane’s chest, but adrenaline knifes through Shane’s hangover long enough for him to peel Ilya off and roll him into his back. Ilya blinks blearily up at him, starfished in the sheets. Beautiful and naked and missing his mother’s cross.

     

    OR: When Ilya’s cross goes missing after the Centaurs celebrate their first Stanley Cup win, Shane is determined to get it back. And so are the Centaurs. And the rest of Ottawa.

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    02 Mar 2026

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    “Don’t–” Ilya starts, already reaching, already cupping Shane’s face between both hands, thumbs warm and tender against his cheekbones like they’ve always belonged there.

    Shane’s eyes are big and gorgeous and genuinely curious. “Don’t what?”

    Don’t make me look like a lovesick idiot. Don’t make my heart trip over itself for a way out of my chest and into yours. Don’t say it like that—so fucking sincere—like you don’t know how devastating it is for me.

    “Don’t butcher my language,” he says instead and kisses Shane’s smile hard, like reflex, like gravity, like there was never going to be another option.

    -

    Shane sets out to learn Russian. Ilya discovers he's incapable of keeping his composure.

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    02 Mar 2026