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A dog in the center of the frozen lake in Prospect Park was not how Alex anticipated starting his day. He has a routine that he likes—go for a run, drink coffee, shower, have breakfast, and another coffee before taking the subway into Manhattan—it works wonders for him, and this is certainly throwing a wrench into things. On the edge of the lake is a man who is shaking a bag of treats and calling the dog’s name—David.
He hears the voice shout, “David, please. Come here,” and the dog bays forlornly, as if to say, “Please come get me.”
Alex winces. The park is mostly empty because it’s still too early, but it’s Brooklyn, so even in the early hours, there are still people milling about, even in the chill of December. The people hanging around are watching, some are on their phones, presumably calling someone, but no one is doing anything to help.
Alex is a Boy Scout, a true blue Boy Scout who earned his Eagle Scout Award through creating a tutoring program at a shelter in Austin that still gets utilized to this day. Although he’s never experienced a frozen lake, he understands the basics of survival training and what to do in these situations. He can also tell David isn’t that far out, and something about the man at the edge of the lake, constantly calling the dog’s name isn’t something he can ignore.
Alex runs over, shoving his beanie further over his ears to keep the cold out. As he gets closer he can see that the dog is stepping in place, nervous to move forward. Alex can tell that the ice is thick enough to hold at least 20 pounds of weight, judging by the size of the dog. He doesn’t know if it can take a grown man too, but he’s about to find out.
He doesn’t say anything to the man at the edge of the water—doesn’t even look at him, before taking a delicate step onto the ice. It’s holding his weight so far. He takes another step. And another. He doesn’t hear any cracking. The traction in his running shoes is not meant for ice and he takes baby steps forward, slipping as he goes, making sure he doesn’t bust his ass in front of the peanut gallery.
It’s windy today, and if he had known he’d be taking delicate steps over a frozen lake, he’d probably be wearing more layers, but it’s fine. Everything is fine. He’s telling that to himself, and the dog, who is whimpering nervously, in a plaid sweater with a leash dangling from his collar. Alex makes it to the dog, noting that the dog is wearing shoes, which is probably great for the dog’s poor paws, but Alex is judging the owner a little bit.
“C’mon, David. Let’s get you back to your human.” He murmurs softly. He crouches gently, getting the dog into his arms, and uses a hand to brace himself so he can stand up straight. Alex winces at the crack in his knees and curses when he initially can’t get his feet under him, feeling the slick crunch of ice, but he gets there, and inches back towards land, ignoring spattered applause from the people standing by the side of the lake.
Alex can feel David wriggling in his arms the closer they get to shore, and he decides to let David go the rest of the way. He gingerly puts the dog on the ice and watches as the dog slips and slides his way towards the man who was calling out his name so desperately. Once he sees that the dog makes it, he just realizes he has to go a few more steps. He’s probably another 3 feet away when he takes a step and hears a sharp ‘snap.’
He moves away from the sound quickly.
“Fuck. Fucking shit. Fuck.”
Another step. Another snap. Alex doesn't remember the ice being thin when he went out on the lake, but he guesses that the sun is starting to melt it just enough.
He’s close enough to hear tutting and tittering and people telling him to be careful, and he has choice words for them, but right now he’s more focused on getting off the fucking ice. He makes a snap decision to run, and that’s a bad idea. That’s a really fucking bad idea.
Step.
Crack.
Step.
Crack.
And he’s so close, but not close enough. The ice breaks under him and the cold hits him like a bullet wound. Granted, he’s never been shot, but he imagines this is what it feels like—an aching pain that spreads too rapidly. He feels like he’s burning and numb all at once, and everything from his chest down feels like it’s separating from his body.
Alex has to remember to breathe, but all his brain is telling him is cold, cold, fucking freezing cold—you’re gonna die in the middle of a lake in front of other people because you decided to do a good deed and save a stranger’s dog.
Alex isn’t going to die though. He still has too much to do. He doesn’t know if he’s breathing or not, but he knows he isn’t under the water, and that’s a plus. All he has to do is get out of the water and belly crawl. He thinks. Also, if he’s able to think he’s probably able to breathe; he just wishes he wasn’t so fucking cold.
He pulls himself up on shaking arms, praying the ice doesn’t break more, and by some miracle, it’s thick enough to hold him. His legs aren’t cooperating, but he has enough upper body strength to slowly get himself back on the ice. He tries to remember his first aid training, tries to do the math on how much time he has before hypothermia sets in, but his brain isn’t cooperating, so he moves, hoping he’s going towards the shore, and not away from it.
He thinks he can hear his parents telling him in conflicting voices—their voices overlaying in weird stereo:
“Come on, Claremont.”
“Get moving, Diaz.”
He listens, because he always listens to them when they talk to him like that. Moving forward is a blur, but he thinks he makes it because he can feel solid ground under his damp, gloved hands. He wants to rip them off, but he can’t move. The sun feels too bright and it isn’t warming him at all. The December chill is making him shiver, but shivering is good, he thinks.
It seems like getting off the lake took everything out of him, because all he can see behind his eyes is black. He thinks he can hear concerned murmurs and someone calling for an ambulance. He thinks someone is giving instructions on how to keep him warm, but he isn’t aware enough to know for sure.
There’s a hand in his, that feels like touching the sun itself, that feels solid and real—and even if it hurts, he’ll take it over holding nothing at all.
❄️❄️❄️
When Alex wakes up, he has no recollection of how he got there, which sends a knot of anxiety through his chest. He opens his eyes to a dark room—and it’s definitely not his bedroom. There isn’t a desk with textbooks and haphazard notes in a scrawl that only he can read. There isn’t a bookshelf with his replica Rebel Alliance helmet and Lego X-Wing along with the books he plans to read when he has time (see: never). There’s only one pillow when he usually has three, and the bed sheets aren’t soft in the slightest.
More frightening is the sharp pain in his arm, and his chest, and all of him really. He also feels like the one time he got locked in the walk-in freezer at Whataburger for two minutes as a prank by Brendan when he was 16, only worse. Way worse.
He tries to breathe, but it causes him to cough. And the cough is probably the worst thing right now. It feels like his body is trying to turn him inside out. It’s a wet, hacking thing that causes him to groan miserably. He thinks tears are collecting in his eyes.
He hears beeping, and realizes it’s him, or because of him, and it all starts coming back to him slowly.
1. He rescued a dog from the middle of a lake because he thought he could
2. The ice cracked under his feet
3. He fell into the lake
4. He’s not dead
He still feels too cold, even though it’s clear he’s nowhere near the water, and when he shivers to try and gather warmth, his whole body feels like a giant bruise, even if he didn’t fall that far.
“Oh,” is all he can get out of his mouth, but it draws the attention of someone, who walks over with purpose.
“Mr. Claremont-Diaz, can you hear me?” Her voice is warm—a southern drawl, which he didn’t expect to find in New York. It definitely isn’t Texas, but the familiarity settles something in him.
“Tha’s me,” Alex responds, tongue too big for his mouth. “Where am I?” He asks softly, trying to hold back a building cough, but failing miserably.
“I’d just let it out, honey. Holding it back will only hurt worse. You’re at New York Presbyterian. You fell in the lake in 20° weather. Your bottom half got soaked and you ended up unresponsive once you got yourself out. We’re monitoring for pneumonia and trying to get your core body temp up right now. Is there anyone we can call for you?”
Alex shakes his head. “Family’s all over. Closest one is on vacation,” he says, referring to June who’s with Nora somewhere in the Caribbean he can’t remember.
The nurse clicks her tongue in apparent disappointment. “I see. Do you want me to try to call someone anyway? I know it’s the holiday season and travel at the last minute is hard, but you shouldn’t be alone right now.”
Alex shakes his head. “S’okay. I’ll be fine.” He pauses, thinking for a second. “Do you know if the dog’s okay?”
It would really suck if he did all of that for the dog to get hurt.
The look on her face makes Alex think that she has no idea what he’s talking about. She skeptically responds.
“Not sure. I’m sorry I don’t have a better answer for that one. Rest. And if you need anything, feel free to hit the call button.”
Alex nods weakly, groaning as another cough wracks his frame. He hopes the good karma from this gets him back eventually. It isn’t like he does things for the recognition. His moral compass always points true north–he will always do the right thing, no matter what it takes, but right now—despite the lack of regrets, the feeling of loneliness is swallowing up more than the winter chill.
❄️❄️❄️
When he wakes up again, the nurse is checking his IV and adjusting his cannula under his nose. He coughs weakly, and it feels like a kick to the ribs.
“Good mornin’” He mumbles weakly, coughing again.
“It’s 5 o’ clock in the evening, Alex. The sun is down already. You’ve been out most of the day, which is good because your body needs to recover. Your cough’s been nasty, and your temperature spiked in a bad way. You’ll probably have to stay in the hospital for a day or two.”
Alex shivers under the blankets, nodding at the information being presented to him.
“‘M s-so cold.”
She puts a thermometer under his tongue as gently as she can manage–it still causes another hacking cough that causes him to groan. He winces at the dull beep.
“Your temp is 102.3, hon. You’re burning up.”
Alex wishes he felt the fever–wishes he could feel the warmth she was talking about. He realizes he never asked for the nurse’s name.
“What’s your name?”
“I told you when I first came in. It’s Jeannie,” she says softly.
“Don’ remember,” Alex admits.
“Well, I definitely told you. And your doctor’s name is Dr. Cuesta. She’ll be in to check on you again soon. Also, I don’t know if you’re up for visitors, but you have one. He’s apparently the man whose dog you saved.”
“Can I see ‘im?” Alex asks, burrowing into the pillow, somehow managing to avoid shifting his cannula.
“I just said you could,” Nurse Jeannie murmurs. “I’ll get him from the waiting room.”
Alex realizes he probably should’ve declined the visitor because he’s a walking (laying in a hospital bed) petri dish of lake water and he’s too tired to entertain anyone, but he also wants to attempt to talk to the man who’s part of the reason he’s here—not that he blames him. Alex made his own hospital bed, and now he’s lying in it.
Alex attempts to make himself look presentable. He doesn’t know how he looks at the moment, but he can’t imagine it’s anything pretty based on the disappointed clucking noises from Nurse Jeannie and the concerned furrow of her eyebrows. He pushes his hair back, and winces when he feels it catch in his fingertips, pulling at his scalp. It feels greasy against his skin, and he feels sweat in his hairline.
He hears a knock on the door frame and he looks over, wincing at the ache in his neck as he moves. Standing there is someone Alex would have loved to meet when he isn’t feeling like death warmed over. The blond man has a downturn to his plush lips and his cheeks still look red from what he assumes is the chill outside. It makes him look almost pretty. His eyes are a beautiful shade of blue that reminds Alex of the lake in Texas that has never frozen over or personally wronged him. He’s wearing a wool peacoat and dark jeans to match. He’s also holding a really pretty orchid that won’t last while Alex is like this.
“You can come in,” he rasps. He must sound pathetic like this.
The other man steps through the doorway and places the flower down on the table where there are two chairs. Alex watches as he smoothly trades the flower for the chair and brings it close. If Alex was feeling better, he’d probably make a sharp comment about the flowers, but his brain feels like the orange jello he had with lunch.
“Hello,” the man mumbles, eyes shifting away from Alex. He looks ashamed, and Alex wishes he would stop.
“I’d push the chair back a lil bit.” He smiles to himself, “Hey, my sister calls me that. Don’t want you to catch what I got.” He smiles easily, even though he’s absolutely miserable.
“I’ll be fine, but if it’ll put you at ease, I can wear the mask the nurse gave me,” he says, sliding it over his mouth and nose. “Better?”
Alex nods. “Thanks.”
Even the furrow of his brows is cute. It’s absolutely criminal that Alex doesn’t have the energy to flirt right now.
“I should be the one thanking you. I don’t know what possessed you to be so bloody reckless with yourself, but I owe you for it. David is very important to me, and this isn’t the first time he’s gotten himself into trouble, but getting himself trapped on a frozen lake is a new one in his Rolodex of misadventures. I’m sorry that you had to suffer because he didn’t come back when he was called.”
Alex shakes his head. “‘M just happy I helped. You seemed really upset and I wanted to do somethin’.”
“I’m Henry by the way. Henry Fox. I don’t think I said that yet,” the other man chimes in.
“If you did, I don’ remember. Too tired,” Alex mumbles.
The brief conversation is taking too much out of him. It’s unfortunate, because he wants to talk to Henry. Henry seems nice, and he’s nice-looking, and Alex knows that if he leaves, he’ll probably never see this man again.
“I’ll let you rest, but if you’re amenable, I can come by again tomorrow. I have more I want to talk with you about.”
That sounds cryptic and mysterious, and Alex wants to know what he means, but he’s drained. If he wasn’t tired, he’d make fun of Henry’s too-proper speech patterns and ask more questions about the posh-ass accent. He’d also needle away the clear shyness bleeding off the other man, but recovering from a near death experience outweighs being a little shit.
“I’ll be here.”
Henry nods, waving goodbye, and Alex lifts up his hand weakly in response before dropping it like a lead balloon onto the bed.
❄️❄️❄️
Alex doesn’t feel any better when he wakes up again, but he doesn’t feel any worse, which he takes as a win. He manages to get his phone charged, grateful he had it in his jacket pocket in the weird koozie thing June got him for Christmas last year. He thinks if he didn’t have that, he wouldn’t have a phone. He hasn’t missed much in the past 24 hours, luckily, and he shoots off texts as proof of life. He doesn’t plan on telling anyone he’s in the hospital until he’s out of the hospital. Obviously, he knows that plan probably isn’t his best one, but he’ll have to cancel on holiday plans anyway, and he’d rather not cause unnecessary worry when it isn’t due.
He gets poked and prodded, and then eats some oatmeal and honey. It’s hard to swallow, and he still feels miserable. He’s limited to only one coffee in the morning, and the steam doesn’t do much to open his airways. He can also barely taste it, and what he can taste is burnt and gritty. He doesn’t expect much from hospitals, but it’s still disappointing.
What’s less disappointing is Henry’s presence and the fact Alex is more cognizant of it. He’s still not anywhere close to being what he’d like to present towards the other man, but…it’s much better than last night.
Henry walks in in the same peacoat and a different pair of jeans, and instead of an orchid, he has a plushie in hand and it’s a…fucking plague doctor. This man apparently has jokes. If Alex was feeling better, he’d laugh. Right now, if he tried, he’d just cause himself misery.
“You seem more…alert,” Henry observes, and hands Alex the stuffed…creature? Alex takes it and holds onto it. It smells like fresh grass and petrichor, even though Alex knows for a fact it’s too cold to rain right now.
“I’m managing,” Alex says, tiredly. “I don’t remember much from yesterday if I’m being honest with you. He doesn’t mean to cough again, and he wishes he could take the look off Henry’s face when he does.
“You were very…out of it, yesterday,” Henry affirms. “I wanted to see if there was a way I could repay you for what you’ve done. I know it sounds a bit…outlandish, but I do have the ability to pay for your stay here.”
Alex grimaces. He has insurance, but he doesn’t have the brain power to do the math on copays, plus the cost of the ambulance, and everything. “I really, really couldn’t ask you to do that. That’s like…way too much.”
Henry shakes his head. “David is essentially my child. He’s priceless to me. You did something selfless and got injured as a result…”
“Speaking of, is David okay?”
Henry looks at him like he has three heads. “David is perfectly fine, thanks to you. Now, back to the topic at hand, please let me do something for you.”
“You really don’t have to, I’m—”
He feels a buzz in his hand and looks down at his phone. He knows it’s rude, but it’s a force of habit. It’s from the owner of his building, which is weird because Alex knows he’s always ahead on his rent and utilities.
Hey all. The heat is broken until further notice. I have someone coming, but I don’t know how long it will take to fix. Due to the current weather conditions, it is not safe to stay in the building at this time. I am sorry for the inconvenience and will work as quickly as possible to fix this.
A stream of responses starts pouring in, and Alex’s face falls. He can’t go home, not unless he wants to get even sicker. His apartment is drafty as it is, even when the heat is working, and the hot water is hit or miss at best. He wants to curse, but the pause in his breath causes another flurry of coughs to spring free. It feels like his sternum is cracking with each cough. Alex jumps when he feels a hand rubbing gentle circles into his back. Alex wants to tell Henry to get away so he doesn’t catch Alex’s illness, but he can’t help but lean into the touch.
“Christ, you’re warm,” Henry murmurs.
“That would be the fever. It hasn’t broken yet,” Alex says with a weak grin.
“Right. Your face dropped after the text. Did you get some bad news?” Henry sounds so concerned, and it’s nice.
“Actually, yeah. Apparently, the heat is out in my building because old age plus cold weather equals things breaking down, but that doesn’t work for me since I’m here in the hospital. My family is all over the place and I’m definitely not feeling well enough to get on a plane.”
“Stay with me,” Henry says definitively.
“I beg your finest fucking pardon?” Alex says, eyes wide.
“I know you’re ill, but I know you can hear me.” Henry retorts. Alex kind of likes the sass. “Stay with me. I’ll be alone for the holidays. Your apartment is the worst place for you to be right now.” Alex frowns petulantly. “You’ll have someone to take care of you while you recover, and I’ll have peace of mind knowing that the man who saved my dog isn’t going to become further worse for wear.”
Alex considers it. Logically, it makes sense. He can’t go home. He can’t get on a plane to see his family. He doesn’t want to take a hospital bed away from someone who needs it more than him as he becomes less close to death’s door. It’s…the best thing to do, and he has a feeling that if he doesn’t agree to this, Henry will somehow manage to make a grander gesture than inviting him to stay, and Alex doesn’t want that.
“Fine. Thank you.” He wants to say more, but if he keeps talking, he’ll actually hack up a lung, and he’d prefer not to.
“Nothing would make me happier.” Something tells Alex that Henry means it with everything he has.
❄️❄️❄️
Alex gets discharged and goes home with Henry. He leaves with a list of medications to take as well as a list of recommendations and things he should avoid. Henry takes him to his apartment to get his things, and by ‘get his things’, he means he gives Henry a list and a crudely drawn map of which clothes are in which drawers in his dresser. Henry says he has spare toiletries, but Alex asks Henry to get his hair-related things because, ‘no offense, but you don’t seem like you have curl cream in your bathroom’. Henry doesn’t correct him. Alex doesn’t know how Henry doesn’t get a ticket for his awful attempt at double parking, but he guesses that’s where his good karma from saving David comes in. Henry is apparently efficient because he comes back with the backpack Alex specified as well as a blanket from his couch. Alex holds on tighter to his plague doctor plush and holds the orchid between his sneakers as they make the short drive to Henry’s place. Alex’s eyes go wide as he sees the outside of the brownstone.
“Do you like…rent out a floor?” Alex asks, knowing what the answer actually is.
“No, the building with the red door and the wreath is mine,” Henry says, easily, like he doesn’t own a whole ass brownstone in Park Slope. Henry slips something out of his pocket and hands a key to Alex.
“I need to park the car. Go inside and wait where it’s warm. I’ll be there with your things momentarily.”
Alex doesn’t have it in him to argue, and follows the instructions, sliding out of the passenger seat and moving towards the door. He moves as quickly as he’s able to in order to avoid the chill that sneaks under his clothes. He manages to unlock the door and stands in the vestibule, shutting the door firmly behind him without locking it. He notes the staircase and the opulent chandelier, as well as the checkerboard tiles. It’s nice. Uppity, but nice. Henry comes in quickly with Alex’s backpack and the blanket and leads the way to the first floor.
“Make yourself comfortable on the couch. I’ll bring your things to the room you’ll be staying in. I also need to take David on a walk.”
Alex nods and follows Henry’s instructions, too tired to provide a response. He falls into the corner and sinks into the crisp leather. It still smells new, like Henry hasn’t had the couch that long. Henry throws the blanket from Alex’s home over him, tucking him in, and Alex settles. He doesn’t remember when his eyes flutter shut.
❄️❄️❄️
Alex wakes up when he feels the warm scratch of a dog’s tongue on his cheek. He’s no longer feverish, but he still feels fatigued and congested. He groans, trying to push the dog away, and before he can get a hand on coarse fur, the brush of warm skin causes him to blink his eyes open.
A quiet voice whispers, “David, no. Leave him alone. He’s feeling poorly.”
Alex smiles to himself. Britishisms are so weird. “S’okay. He was sayin’ thank you.”
Henry hums to himself, putting David down on the floor, as he brushes Alex’s hair away. “As he should. You don’t feel as warm anymore, which is good. Do you need anything?”
Alex shakes his head. It isn’t necessarily the truth. He should probably have some low-sodium broth with some bland chicken, or some soft vegetables, or something on the specific list the doctor gave him, but he doesn’t want to ask Henry for anything more than necessary.
“Is it time for my meds yet?” Alex asks, trying to hold back a cough.
“Not yet. You still have another few hours till your next dose. Are you hungry? I am not a good cook, but I am very skilled at ordering from Uber Eats,” Henry says.
Alex nods, grimacing at how heavy his head feels. He doesn’t realize he’s doing it, because he planned to decline the offer.
“Wonderful. I can get you some chicken breast and steamed vegetables, as well as some soup from the deli nearby. Does that work?”
“Yeah. S’perfect,” Alex says, clearing his throat. The sharp pain causes him to blink his eyes open.
Henry looks apologetic, but Alex stops him.
“Don’t.”
Henry’s mouth snaps shut, knowing exactly what he means, with an audible click. Alex watches as he pulls his phone out and deftly orders food.
They fall into an awkward silence shortly after, and Alex breaks it, unable to take the quiet.
“I like your Christmas decorations. I haven’t gotten a chance to decorate yet. I don’t think it’s happening this year,” he says hoarsely, with a self-deprecating laugh.
Henry’s decor is simple, but pretty. His tree is small, but covered in ornaments and tinsel. There are gifts under the tree, and the smell of cinnamon permeates through his home, even through Alex’s clogged sinuses. It’s comforting.
“Thank you. It’s just me and David, but I’ve always liked the holiday, so I try to make it look nice, even if I don’t always have people to share it with.”
“Are the gifts under the tree just for you and David?”
“Just David,” Henry corrects. “I am not conceited enough to get gifts for myself.”
Alex smirks. “I mean, even though the wrapped gifts are for David, you’re still the one opening them, so, you kind of defeat the purpose.”
Henry blanches. “Well–er–I suppose I didn’t think that through. Right.”
Alex smiles weakly. “I should probably call my mom and let her know I can’t make it for the holidays, minus the near-death experience, obviously.”
“Do you want me to leave so you can have some privacy?” Henry asks.
“Nah, It’s not gonna be a long conversation. She’s all business. She needs to know the facts so she can change the plans accordingly. My sister on the other hand–”
He breaks off with another cough. He wants this to be over.
“Is she protective?” Henry asks, curiously.
“That’s one way of putting it,” Alex says, with a snort.
“I know the feeling,” Henry says, lips quirking upwards.
Alex smiles at him, dialing the number he knows by heart. He waits for the call to connect, feeling Henry’s eyes on him as he settles further onto the couch.
He hears his mother’s voice on the other end of the line.
“Hey, sugar. This call will have to be quick,” his mother greets.
“I figured, I just wanted to give you an update about Christmas. I won’t be able to fly down. I caught something nasty and I feel like shit. It’s not a good idea for me to travel anywhere.”
He neglects to tell her that he was near hypothermic and in the hospital for two days, because she doesn’t need to worry about him.
“Airports are definitely germ factories. As much as I don’t love it, staying in New York is the right call,” his mom agrees. He knew she would.
“Yeah–” He clears his throat. “I’m not happy about it, but I’ll manage.”
“Did you go to the doctor yet, Alex? That sounds bad.”
“Yes ma’am. I have meds and everything.”
“Good. Take care of yourself. I’ll come up before the semester starts.”
“You don’t have to, Ma. I know you have things to do,” Alex says. He doesn’t want her to stop her life for him.
“We’ll look at the shared family Google calendar and figure out what dates work. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
The phone call ends and he slumps backward. He should’ve known arguing with Ellen Claremont wouldn’t work.
Henry is watching him. Alex didn’t have the phone on speaker, but his mother was loud enough to hear.
“That went well,” Henry comments lightly.
“It really did.”
–
Shortly after, the food arrives. Henry sets Alex up on the couch first and sits nearby.
“Do you have a preference on what to watch?” Henry asks. “Nah. It’s your TV, and I’m probably gonna fall asleep after we eat,” Alex says, easily.
He spoons some soup into his mouth, and it feels so good on his throat. He can’t really taste it, but he doesn’t care. It beats hospital food by a long shot, and Henry is giving him a look that Alex can’t pick out. Maybe if he wasn’t exhausted, his brain could make sense of it.
They eat in comfortable silence. Henry opts to put on the virtual fireplace channel on Netflix, even though it looks like Henry has a beautiful, functional fireplace not far from where the Christmas tree is.
Alex grins. This might not be so bad.
❄️❄️❄️
This is bad. Henry is attentive to Alex’s every need, and he seems to have a sixth sense for things that Alex likes, even though they’ve only known each other for a few days. Alex wishes he could return the favor for the way Henry is treating him, but his energy levels are in the negatives. He feels like his immune system is trying to make up for all the times he’s managed to avoid getting sick, and every time he tries to decline Henry’s care, Henry stubbornly relents.
Alex has never been taken care of like this, not even as a kid, and he doesn’t understand. He’s a stranger to Henry. Sure, he saved his dog, but it still doesn’t warrant scalp scratches, learning how to make Alex’s coffee, a place to stay until his apartment’s heat situation is resolved, or driving through the snow to get Alex’s favorite food from a hole in the wall two neighborhoods over. It’s making Alex feel itchy. (And not in the chicken pox way. Been there, done that. No fucking thank you.)
Alex decides to say something on Christmas Eve.
“You know…you don’t need to keep doing this, right? I’m starting to feel better. You don’t need to...take care of me like this.”
Henry glances over at him, and the look on his face makes Alex regret what he said. He wishes he could take it back.
“I know I don’t need to, but I want to. You deserve to be taken care of. You did something so selfless for no reason whatsoever. You could’ve gotten hurt. Or worse,” Henry says sadly, “And taking care of you is the least I can do in return, as I’ve said already. Beyond that, I like having you here. You’re sweet and funny, and I enjoy your company.”
“Really? I’ve been a sad lump on your couch, and I got snot everywhere,” Alex quips.
Henry rolls his eyes, unmoved by Alex’s argument. It’s a shame; he’s studying to be a lawyer. He should be better than this. He’s off his game.
“You’ve been ill, Alex. You can’t be blamed for not having the energy to hold a proper conversation.”
“But–”
Henry does something that surprises Alex. He kisses him, and it takes Alex a second to compute, because he’s kissing back, but then he remembers, he’s ill. Sick. Bed-ridden.
Alex jumps back and stares at Henry, who stares at him.
“Can we circle back to that when I’m not dying?” Alex asks, grinning weakly.
Henry snorts. “Haven’t we established that you’re being a tad dramatic, love?”
Alex flushes, liking how ‘love’’ sounds coming out of Henry’s mouth.
“What was that, though?” Alex asks. “I mean, you’ve been nice, but you didn’t really drop ‘big Gay crush’ hints.”
Henry snorts. “I don’t treat my friends the way I treat you, Alex. I mean, I care for them deeply, but I don’t usually let friends use my lap as a pillow.”
“You have very nice thighs. Perfect for pillowing,” Alex comments, grinning brightly.
“Thank you. You have a very nice…” Henry pauses, and it’s clear he’s trying to think of a word before he settles on. “Everything. You have a very nice everything.”
Alex laughs, but it breaks into a weak cough and a groan. “Fuck me.”
“We have to define what we are first before we get into that, Alex,” Henry responds.
One Week Later
It’s New Year’s Eve. Alex is back in his apartment and feeling much better. He still has a faint sniffle, and he’s paler than usual, but he thinks he’s back to…85%. Also in his apartment is Henry–which is nice. They’re on Alex’s much less nice, but still comfortable couch, with David sandwiched between them, eating Chinese food. Normally Alex would be searching for a party, but this is just as good, if not better.
He feels his phone buzz in his pocket, and sees a FaceTime call from June. He knows he can’t ignore her. She’s been sending him a steady stream of texts since he told Mom he was missing out on Christmas.
“Do you want to leave the room, or do you want to meet my sister?”
“It’s whatever you want, love. She’s your sister.”
Alex picks up the phone, holding the camera to his face, leaving Henry just out of frame. Her camera shakes for a minute before she settles it in her hand.
“Itty bitty baby brother!” She greets warmly. Alex can tell she’s been drinking.
Juniper!”
“Not my name. We missed you over here. Are you feeling better?”
Alex nods. “Much! Still a bit sniffly, but not on death’s door.”
“What did you have, anyway?”
“Just a virus,” Alex says, avoiding staring straight on.
June doesn’t look like she believes him.
“Were you alone this whole time?” She asks, suddenly concerned.
“No, my boyfriend was taking care of me,” Alex chirps, grinning brightly.
“Your what?” She shrieks, and Alex and Henry wince.
Alex swings his phone to face Henry.
“June, Henry. Henry, June. June, this is my boyfriend, Henry. Henry, this is my older sister, June.”
Henry waves sheepishly, and June’s cheeks puff out.
“When did this happen?” June settles on. “You definitely didn’t have a boyfriend when I saw you last. Or a girlfriend.”
Alex laughs, and it breaks into a coughing fit.
“Can I tell you later?”
June frowns. “You’re telling me everything. I need to know the details of how this came to be.”
“We’ll talk soon, okay?” He says, sniffling.
“Fine. Feel better, Alex. Take care of him, Henry.”
“I will, June. Don’t worry,” Henry confirms.
Alex presses the ‘end call’ button and leans into Henry, earning a groan from David. Henry nudges David into a more comfortable position and runs his fingers through Alex’s curls.
“Are you going to be well enough to kiss me at midnight?” Henry asks.
“Probably not, but that’s what next year is for,” Alex says with a wink.