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Henry shouldn’t be doing this. He should know better than betray his society, his friends, his brothers and sisters for life (even as that expression makes him want to laugh). On all accounts he was a traitor to Nevermoor itself.
And why? All for the recognition of one man. For money, for love. Well… ‘love’ would be an overstatement.
All of it for Ezra Squall.
On paper you could suppose it made sense; the attention and affection of an extraordinary man. Warmth that he’d been denied his entire life from a markedly attractive and influential man, and all the power he could ever dream of. It should have made sense.
But this relationship, if he could even call it that, had never been warm. Had never been affectionate. It had always been so hot he burned himself at almost every touch. It wasn’t alluring, or it shouldn’t have been. There was passion, he supposed as he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, waiting for the time they’d agreed to meet. He had no idea how long he had before it.
His eyes were sunken, and he was far paler than he should be.
Ezra stole Henry’s life away when he found himself stupid enough to dive into the Wundersmith’s embrace(which was… often). Squall never pretended to be anything but himself. But it wasn’t as if Henry could pretend like he’d ever wanted anything but that. He could walk away. He could stop destroying himself piece by piece for a man who would never find the compassion to stop him. The Wundersmith didn’t care if Henry moved on.
He could find another man, someone who wouldn’t egg him on in ripping parts of himself out to please them. Squall had teased him enough times about it. Called him out for the addict he was.
“Darling, it’s no skin off my back to have you throwing yourself at me,” Ezra had sneered at him one night he’d found his way back into the man’s silk sheets. “But I rather think I’m becoming an unhealthy habit of yours.”
“How astute of you,” he’d mumbled back, opening a tired eye. “If you don’t intend to cut me off from this habit, I see no reason for you to bring it up.”
“I’d never, Henry dear,” and oh how the way he said his name made him want to melt back into the man’s touch. “The way you’ll let yourself burn is far too fun to watch.”
“I must have picked the perfect match then.” Henry had said, reaching across the space between them. His hand found the older man’s jaw, fingertips just barely brushing his cool skin.
How Ezra’s black eyes still glittered in the room lit only by moonlight from the open window he’d never know. “Do you want something, dear?”
“Mhm,” he nodded, lost in those glittering, dark eyes.
“Use your words, sweet,” he murmured, taking Henry’s hand and bringing the soft skin on his wrist to his mouth.
“I’m cold,” he whispered, eyes trained on his lover’s lips.
He watched him, transfixed. His breath caught in his throat as those lips twisted into a razor-sharp smile that cut his face wide open.
“How terrible, my love.” He knew the other man was only playing at love. It didn’t stop his heartbeat doubling. One last kiss to his wrist and he dropped Henry’s hand. He leaned forward, bearing down on him. His eyes turned fully black as the illusion of Ezra Squall cracked. Henry wasn’t even scared. “Shall I light you a fire?”
“Please.” Was all he could ever say.
He swished around the water in his mouth, spitting it down the sink. He watched as the last of it dripped down the drain.
Anyone else was out of the question. The destruction inherent to sharing a bed with that monster was half the appeal. Who else out there was both the drug and the enabler? Who else could offer as much for the ashes of himself?
God he hated himself sometimes. How pathetic was he that his perfect partner was a man who didn’t give enough of a shit about him to stop him self destructing? How weak must he be?
He should know better. He gripped the sides of the sink, watching his knuckles turn white.
Henry couldn’t stand the sight of his shrunken reflection any longer. He turned tail and rushed out of the bathroom. He switched off the light and wandered to the kitchen in relative darkness.
The benchtop still had the letters he’d left open scattered across it, from the clubs and gatherings he’d stopped bothering to attend. He was sure he used to enjoy them, some time ago. There were even letters from his own Unit, concerned he hadn’t been seen or heard from by any of them for months. The only other mundane kid in his Unit, Poppy, had sent him a miniature glass carousel for his birthday. Her knack really was something.
He scowled and strode to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of God-knows-what alcohol. He turned the lid and grimaced as it burned its way down his throat.
He sat in the light of the refrigerator sipping idly as the world became more unfocused and blurry. The first hot tear slid its way down his cheek after a minute. The first choked sob when the open fridge began to beep. He slammed it shut.
Where was Ezra? Surely the time they arranged to meet was now, right? What time was it? He needed Ezra to make him stop hurting. Needed him. God that was fucking humiliating. He was so desperately dependent on that man.
He took another swig from the bottle. His cheeks were hot and flushed. Ezra liked it when he blushed.
Maybe he deserved the misery, traitor he was. But then maybe Wunsoc deserved a traitor.
His eyes rested on the letters from his Unit members. Even Poppy hadn’t ever really talked to him. There was something so fantastical about everyone else in his Unit, even the shy red-headed glazier stood out more than him.
Late bloomer, short, and boring. Surrounded by extraordinary people constantly. It had slowly gotten worse— he had gotten worse. At one point he’d almost flunked out of Wunsoc entirely.
None of his fellow scholars ever noticed, but then again Henry considered himself an excellent actor. He stood up, almost over-balancing. His unruly curls fell into his vision as he placed the bottle on the counter.
He was promised a family when he entered Wunsoc, one that would love him unconditionally. He picked up the letter from Daniel, laughing bitterly as his eyes skated the words of faux concern.
‘We’re worried about you Henry’ , his face twisted, crumpling the letter in disgust. The rough parchment rested on his palm for only a moment before he dropped it onto the tiled floor. None of them had ever cared! Even Poppy only ever held polite conversation with him. None of them cared! No one ever had!
And no one ever would!
He grabbed the glass carousel and flung it at the wall, shattering it into a hundred tiny pieces.
He blinked and stared at the jagged pieces of glass on the floor. Guilt welled up inside him, threatening to spill from his eyes as he looked at the broken gift. It had been so pretty. And he’d smashed it apart like every miserable thing in his life.
Why should anyone care? Had he ever done anything deserving of it? Ever been something more than a colossal waste of space?
Tears dripped from his lashes, his knees buckling. A sob tore from his throat as he knelt on the cold tiles, more followed. He shook, unable to bring himself back under control.
The front door opened, and from the sound of the footsteps Henry knew exactly who it was. He didn’t look up to the clink of keys being set down. He sucked in a staggered breath.
“You’re late,” he said, voice wavering slightly.
“Someone’s eager.” He hated that he could tell Ezra was smirking. “I’m perfectly on time— Henry get up from the floor.” There was a pause. “Are you crying?”
“I broke it.” He whispered, looking up at him. “Poppy made it for me and I broke it.”
“And?” He raised a brow. “You did it, no changing that. So what if it broke?”
“I didn’t mean to,” his lip quivered. “She put in so much effort to make something beautiful for me and I smashed it.”
He snapped his fingers, and in an instant the glass was in a bag, sitting on the counter. “I’ll fix it for you in the morning if you’re going to carry on about it like a child.”
“Stop talking down to me, you asshole.” Henry swiped at his eyes.
Ezra rolled his eyes. “You’re pathetic sometimes, you know that?”
“You’re a fucking idiot if you think I don’t.”
“Get up,” Ezra said, grabbing his arm and wrenching him upward. Henry stumbled a little as his jaw was cupped by a cool hand and he was pulled into a kiss. He panted as Ezra let him go. “Are you drunk?”
“No.”
“You’re an awful liar for a turncoat.” Ezra’s black eyes narrowed as he sneered, adjusting his grip on Henry’s wrist.
“And you’re a monster,” he snarled at the taller man.
“You don’t say?” He laughed, without a hint of sincerity. “I hadn’t heard that one before.”
“Yes I drank, but I’m not nearly drunk enough to deal with your bullshit!” Henry said.
“You’re the one who begged me to be here. Who needs me.”
“God I hate you!” He wrenched his arm from Ezra’s grip.
He was grabbed again, by the collar, and pulled close. He stared into the now all-black eyes of the Wundersmith. “And isn’t that all part of the appeal for you, dear.”
Henry glared, and pulled him down into a kiss. He let everything he was melt into a man who’d never truly love him. Let himself not care anymore as Ezra’s lips met his. He wrapped his arms around his neck as Ezra’s arms slipped around his waist, pulling each other desperately closer.
He gasped for air, pulling away from the kiss, feeling dazed. He had a moment of bliss. Ezra wore a smug smirk, and he could feel his cheeks flushing redder than the alcohol had made them.
And then the moment broke and all of the guilt and sadness and self-hatred crashed back down upon him in a tidal wave of emotion. His eyes stung again.
Ezra planted kisses along his jawline, bringing warmth with every touch. He pulled away, gazing at Henry through lowered lashes. There wasn’t a hint of sympathy, compassion, or pity within his gaze.
Henry Mildmay should know better.
“Tell me, darling, what do you want?” Ezra whispered breathily, leaning toward Henry again. He kissed him again, brief and perfect and everything he’d ever wanted.
He should know better. He really should. But as Ezra pulled back and Henry couldn’t tear his gaze from those eyes he couldn’t help but answer.
“Make me forget it all, even for a second.”
He could feel the rumble of Ezra’s chuckle in his chest as he leaned down to murmur against his lips. “Done.”