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Alex is a gold star kindergarten teacher. He doesn't technically have a star, he'd never take anything from the sticker sheet in his top drawer for himself. But he loves this job. And if you love what you do you never work a day in your life, that was the promise, right?
Well, Alex works, harder than any other teacher he knows.
The first time he introduces himself to a kindergarten class as their teacher and is met with wide eyes and grins missing a tooth or two, he knows he is exactly where he is supposed to be. This is what he’s worked for. This is what matters.
When he enters the teachers’ lounge that same afternoon and meets the school’s librarian for the first time, he has half a mind to quit and move into his mom’s spare bedroom in D.C.
Henry Fox spares him one agonizingly quick look from across the room and physically takes a step back before he storms out altogether on his disgustingly long legs.
It’s just Alex’s added luck that the door hasn’t fully closed next to him, so he clearly hears Henry muttering, “That cannot be the new kindergarten teacher. That’s ridiculous.”
It’s exactly what Alex had feared accepting a teaching position back in Texas. He’s used to it - always too brown, too opinionated, overflowing the confines of every box.
There’s a certain irony to hear the words thrown at him in a British accent when this is his home state but it really only makes Alex want to dig in his heels more.
Yes, being close to his sister June again and working at the same school as Nora, her girlfriend, were definite pros on his list. They were, however, not the deciding factor.
Alex is here for the children. Children who deserve to have someone in their corner when it feels like half the world is ready to write them off because they think places like Texas are a lost cause.
So no, he isn’t going to let some wannabe colonizer run him out of this school.
He spends the first few weeks of work focusing on getting to know his class and magnanimously being the bigger person in the teachers’ lounge - even if it is by keeping his opinion contained to icy glares whenever Henry crosses his path.
Nora crams half a donut into her mouth as she thumbs through a thick, colorfully illustrated book about marine life with her other hand.
“You went to see the enemy,” Alex says, voice dripping with open distaste.
It’s petty. Most of the teachers use the school library. For the kindergarten classes Henry even provides an age appropriate book for story time every day without fail.
Alex would never admit it but there hasn’t been a single choice he’s disliked so far.
“He’s a school librarian who wears oversized cardigans and you’re a fully grown adult. You literally sound insane beefing with him.”
“I told you-”
“Yes, you told me all about your horrible first meeting. And I hope you know I would never discard your experiences, statistically it just does not fit the overall data.”
“Your data that proves everyone loves him and he loves everyone and I’m simply the outlier? Jeez, that really makes me feel better. Thanks, Nora.”
She shrugs, not apologetic in the least.
“You like lists, let me lay it out for you. He gets really excited when he finds a new science book to show me.” She waves demonstratively at the book in front of her. “His best friend is Percy Okonjo. Pez? The school counselor we talked to at the youth shelter charity thing. And Henry loves June.”
“Wait. Rewind, Nora. Why does he know June?”
“Don’t look at me like that, Alex. He’s nice, we had him over for dinner once. He wouldn’t shut up about how amazing June’s books are. Which, you know, he’s a librarian but I’ll give him a point for taste.”
A familiar bitter taste unfurls in his mouth.
“All I’m saying is whatever his issue was, I don’t think it had anything to do with the color of your skin.”
There’s a noise, pained and rough like there wasn’t a word for the sudden feeling of distress.
Alex turns his head. It’s Henry, standing in the door with a grimace on his face. Of course. Always Henry.
Alex doesn’t know how much he has heard but he doesn’t bother lowering his voice when he looks back at Nora and replies, “Great, then he isn’t a racist. Just a ridiculous asshole.”
The clicking sound of the door closing again cuts uncomfortably through the silence.
He’s made his point and he has every right to dislike Henry.
It feels terrible anyway.
Alex swallows around the lump of regret stuck in his throat and throws himself into teaching. The kids deserve his full attention.
The plan works fine right up until story time. As if it’s not enough that the library book reminds him of Henry, the book is odd .
He looks over at the door, tries to imagine Henry sitting in the library right across the hall, then he contemplates the book again.
It’s a perfectly appropriate story, except…
“Rude cakes never share, and they’re never sorry because they’re never, ever wrong,” Alex reads out loud and makes sure everyone gets a good view at the illustration of the little pink cake sticking out its tongue.
They follow the journey of the cake until it eventually realizes it has to apologize for the bad behavior.
“Of course, no cake is ever too rude to change,” Alex finishes and blinks slowly.
Surely Henry Fox did not send him an apology in form of a book. It’s a coincidence.
Or worse, does Henry expect an apology from him?
He wills a smile back on his face and turns his attention to the class.
They have a short chat about the moral of the story before Alex lets them go. The carefully constructed wall in his mind keeping him from overthinking crumbles.
What did it mean? Did it mean anything?
Usually he drops his book off on the cart right outside the library at the end of the day, conveniently avoiding more contact with Henry than necessary.
For the first time, he enters instead.
Alex isn’t sure what he expected, the stuffy smell of old books and dust maybe.
The walls are a warm yellow, almost veering into orange, except for a reading corner with small beanbags, where someone has painted a whole galaxy in rich blues and purples.
The place feels welcoming and comfortable, a visual remedy for any misery and sorrow.
He finds Henry at an old desk, stacks of books piling high around him.
“Interesting choice today,” Alex says and slides Rude Cakes across the polished wood.
Henry lifts his head and for a moment he seems unfocused, like he has spent too much time with his nose too close to a page and needs to readjust to reality.
Then his cheeks flush slightly and he clears his throat.
“Did you like it?”
“That depends,” Alex says, fully aware that he’s being a little shit.
No matter what Nora said, he can’t just let Henry off the hook. None of it makes sense.
So maybe Alex is goading him a bit to get an honest reaction. Sue him.
To his surprise, Henry holds his gaze.
“It was a coward’s way of saying sorry.”
Alex barely manages to contain a twitch, his muscles uncertain whether to relax or tense up even further.
Saying sorry. Not asking for an apology.
He raises an eyebrow.
“Do you have anything to be sorry for?”
There’s a pinch to the corner of Henry’s mouth as he nods.
“I was taken aback because I have worked here for three years and we went through four different kindergarten teachers, one older than the next. Mrs. Montgomery was so ancient, my anxiety spiked every time she didn’t move in her chair for a few minutes. Then I saw you and you’re young and… and… you’re young,” Henry trails off before he seems to steel himself again, “I was already a touch frazzled that day because I got a complaint from a parent about the library - which is not an excuse. But then I saw you and you were nothing like I expected. My reaction was inappropriate, however, and I’m sorry.”
Against his will, Alex’s lips quirk upward at the little speech. The words sound practiced, like Henry has run through them in his mind more than once. He should hate it. He doesn’t.
“You don’t think I shouldn’t be here.”
“I think the students are fortunate to have you, actually,” Henry says and his blue eyes are so wide and genuine, Alex doesn’t know what to do with it.
He sniffs dramatically.
“I reckon I can stop glaring at you in the staff room now.”
It breaks the tension, Henry’s expression morphs into soft amusement.
“That would be very appreciated.”
“And just for the record, you’re lucky you apologized because you wouldn’t believe how stubborn I am. I could’ve held onto this grudge for years without breaking a sweat,” Alex grins. It’s only half a joke, he absolutely could have.
But Henry smirks and simply says, “Noted” in his funny English accent, and something bright and warm suddenly flutters in Alex’s stomach.
He blames the yellow walls.
—
It’s a startling realization how much easier his job gets after they have cleared the air. Working with the kids was never stressful itself but Alex only notices what a vast emotional space his anger had occupied once it’s gone.
At first they manage tentative hellos and how are yous at best.
Nora thinks it’s hilarious and asks Alex if he is sure they talked and didn’t actually have a clandestine turned awkward hate fuck in a cleaning supply closet.
So the next time he sees Henry in the teachers’ lounge, Alex starts a debate with him about The Very Hungry Caterpillar . Just to shut Nora up.
Except it takes Henry about two seconds to get over his surprise and launch into a whole monologue about the history of the book, the author and several points of popular criticism. Bright-eyed and more animated than AIex could have ever imagined. It's a bit of a revelation.
Alex wants prod him until he gets going again. He very definitely wants to see what else is lurking below the surface.
Life really has a funny way of fulfilling his wish: He ends up having the worst day of his life. Okay, maybe not his life, but it’s bad. He’s not being dramatic.
Groaning, Alex slumps in his chair. Henry frowns at him as he pours hot water into his mug, the ceramic wrapped in neat cursive of Jane Austen quotes. It’s so goddamn nerdy, Alex wishes he had the brainpower to give him shit for it.
“This is the worst day possible.”
“Don’t you think that’s a tad dramatic?”
“Dramatic? Not a single thing has gone right so far today. I spilled coffee on my shirt this morning, then my car wouldn’t start and now I realized I brought the wrong folder of exercise sheets. I am this close to having June do an egg cleanse for me. Do you know how desperate I have to be?”
Henry takes a slow sip. The smell of tea wafts over to Alex. It’s not the usual earthy Earl Grey - he might have checked the box once but who can prove that - and for no reason, that irritates him even more.
“I really don’t know what that means.”
“It means I’m starting to believe in bad energy, Henry. Keep up.”
“Well. It may be quite a series of unfortunate events but the day is still young. Things might start looking up without the hasty involvement of… eggs.”
“How about you take your optimism and shove it up your ass, Fox?” Alex asks, his voice so fake and cheerful he hopes Henry chokes on it. Or the tea, he isn’t picky today. But Henry doesn’t give him the satisfaction.
“Oh my, I don’t think anyone has ever called me optimistic. Must be my lucky day,” Henry says and has the audacity to wink at Alex like he’s a freaking Bond villain before he heads out.
Alex wishes he could feel smug about finally peeling back another layer of Henry, getting to see some fire hidden beneath neutral toned knitwear and leather bound pages. Instead, he wants to scream.
The morning passes as well as Alex can expect, considering his mood. He does not let his class notice, he’s a professional, thank you very much.
But being patient and encouraging when Luca keeps mixing up b and d during writing practice and Mary-Ann is constantly half a beat behind on the xylophone during music hour is taking more energy out of Alex than he knows how to spare.
When Brenda comes skipping back from picking up today’s book for story time, he forces a smile onto his face and prays it doesn’t look half as tired as he feels.
Not that he has much hope. Children have a terrible sixth sense for things you don’t want them to know, a lesson he has learned a long time ago.
“Good trip to the library, Brenda?”
The arrangement works well. Every day one of the students gets to pick up their book for the day from the library. It's just across the hall and with the window in the door he has an easy time to keep an eye on them. But it makes them feel important and gives them a bit of responsibility.
Even when he disliked Henry, Alex could acknowledge that the kids absolutely love him. He gets it a little better now.
Still, Brenda positively preens as she hands over the book.
“Mr. Henry said we get a special book today.”
Perplexed, Alex looks down.
Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.
A laugh bursts out of him before he can stop it. It might just be his first real laugh all day. Fucking Henry.
—
The third time it happens, Alex isn't even sure it's a message for him specifically. The book just speaks to him.
“There will be times when you walk into a room and no one there is quite like you until the day you begin to share your stories.”
Of course it's not the same for them. Henry is tall, white, awfully attractive. Opportunities don't turn into closed doors for him because of something arbitrary like a z in his last name.
He can't help but wonder about how far Henry is from home. How many rooms he has entered where nobody spoke like him. If that ever makes him feel lonely. What's Henry's story?
The question doesn't let him go. By the next day, Alex it’s burning even brighter.
With half the teachers gone on a school trip to a museum, the break room is blessedly empty. Almost.
Nora looks at him for a moment, in that overly scrutinizing way of hers, like she has figured him out completely before Alex even knows there is anything to figure out. It makes him queasy. He peeks over at Henry instead, standing quietly in his usual spot by the window like he’s an overgrown houseplant.
“Anyway, I’m off. Someone has to shape the minds of the next Nobel Prize winners, you know the drill. Alejandro, don’t forget June is making tamales tonight. If you aren’t at our place by seven because your head exists in a space and time unknown to the rest of us, I’ll teach your ducklings about mentos and coke. In your classroom,” she threatens. It’s hard to tell how serious she is.
“Mhm, see y’all later,” Alex mumbles and rolls his eyes. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate June and her commitment to making tamales, he just really needs to get this out of his system before he obsesses another day.
He bites his lip, hesitant.
“Hey, Henry. Can I ask you a personal question?”
Henry's face is blank. Smooth edges carved into cold marble, impossible to read.
Beautiful in a way that's entirely dissatisfying for some reason, Alex thinks. Now that he knows how animated Henry can be.
Then Henry gives him a nod.
“The book yesterday made me wonder… Why are you here? In Texas of all places, I mean.”
For a few long seconds Henry stirs his tea without replying. Alex is just starting to consider whether plunging himself out of a second floor window to escape is more or less awkward than this, when Henry walks over and sits down.
“What if I just really like barbecue and cowboy boots?” Henry asks but the joke doesn’t reach his eyes.
Alex grins anyway, playing along with the deflection. He’s never seen Henry in anything but dress shoes. If anyone told him Henry doesn’t even own a pair of sneakers, Alex wouldn’t doubt it.
“You would be correct.”
The silence is shorter this time. Henry is somber when he replies, his head downcast and shoulders drawn. Alex sits up straighter at the tone.
“My family history is… complicated, shall we say? Especially my grandma and I never saw eye to eye but everyone bowed to her will. Her word was law. Her grand plan for me was to marry some debutante. Not just any, either. Only one with money and a title would have satisfied her. Love didn’t even make the bottom of her criteria. The only person to ever stand up for me was my dad and then he died when I was eighteen. My sister Bea tried her best but she was as buried in grief as the rest of us. My brother eventually came around but it wasn’t enough to keep me in London.”
Alex swallows hard. His own family isn’t exactly a paragon of perfection. He spent countless hours as a teenager blaming himself for his parents divorce. They couldn’t really understand why he suddenly veered from following in their footsteps to teaching of all things. But he doesn’t doubt they love him.
He wants to reach out, maybe put a hand on Henry’s arm, let him know that someone is there.
Henry’s gaze is distant, stuck in a cage an ocean away. Alex doesn’t know how to pull him out of it. So he gives him time instead.
“I decided to go as far away as possible, where grandma would never even think to look for me. I was too afraid she’d swallow me whole sooner or later. I was incredibly lucky that Pez has a remarkable amount of connections, he helped me get a job here so I could stay. I know most people aren’t that fortunate.”
“Do you ever regret it?”
“I don’t regret leaving. At times I wonder if I am where I’m supposed to be. If I didn’t move from one uphill battle to another. Perhaps I’d fit in better in a place like New York. Anonymous. If everyone is different nobody is. All that. But I make a difference for the students here. Even if some parents get angry about my liberal books sometimes,” Henry says with a wry smile.
A few weeks earlier, when Henry was little more than the cardboard cutout of an entitled white douchebag in his mind, Alex might have been surprised.
He thinks of the library again.
“Did the library look like that or did you give it a makeover?”
If Henry is at all thrown by the sudden change in topic, he doesn't show it. Alex is glad he doesn't have to explain the jump his mind made. He doesn’t know if he could.
“That was me, I'm afraid. When I started, the school said I can do whatever I want with the room under two conditions. I pay for it out of my own pocket and it can't be offensive. We didn't quite agree on what's offensive but well, it turned out fairly nice anyway in my opinion.”
Henry was given a tiny corner of the world and turned it into an oasis. Maybe as much for himself as the students.
Alex looks at the cup of tea on the table, dwarfed by his own giant tumbler of coffee right next to it. The puzzle is starting to take shape.
They're really not that different. Not in ways that matter.
“It really did. You know, H… I come from a whole family of politicians and if I’ve learned one thing, it's this: If you keep making the right people angry, you’re moving in a good direction.”
“Cheers to that.”
—
“Dude, you always give me these weird books for reading comprehension. What happened to the classics?”
Alex suppresses an urge to roll his eyes so strong, he’s slightly afraid he popped a blood vessel in the process. What sort of idiot calls it ‘reading comprehension’? Then again, it wouldn’t be a shock if Hunter handed out standardized tests to assess whether his five year old students have understood their daily picture book.
He is less sure if Hunter himself even understands the moral of half the kindergarten books at Henry’s disposal.
“Like what, The Rainbow Fish ?” Henry asks, a hint of derision in his tone. Hunter doesn’t notice. He huffs.
“Don’t you dare. That’s socialist propaganda.”
Apparently too appalled by the idea, struts off with his nose high in the air.
Alex lets out an excited laugh.
“Do you have a copy I can borrow? Maybe if I carry it around he’ll never try talking to me again, like garlic to ward off vampires.”
Henry chuckles but then shakes his head.
“I don’t agree with him but I have to admit I’m not the biggest fan of that book either.”
“Huh? Why?”
Alex can’t claim to have spared it much thought in a minute but he doesn’t have bad memories of the book.
Henry gathers his words with care, twisting the heavy gold ring he never seems to take off his little finger.
“The Rainbow Fish is different than the other fish and he’s proud of that. The other fish don’t accept him until he starts giving up the parts that make him unique.”
“The Rainbow Fish thinks he’s better than everyone else. His generosity brings him happiness in the end,” Alex offers. For him, the obvious lesson has always been about sharing.
“I suppose,” Henry says quietly but there is a sense of dejection in the slump of his shoulders that makes Alex yearn to reach out. He turns the story around in his head again. He can see Henry’s point.
“It’s possible it’s not all good or all bad, H. He shouldn’t have been vain but he also shouldn’t have to give up integral parts of himself to make friends. We can both be right. That’s kind of the beauty of books.”
The tension seeps out of Henry as if Alex has just said magic words.
“I can put it on the schedule, if you like? You’re the teacher.”
Alex shakes his head.
“Thanks but I don’t want to sacrifice one value for another and you haven’t given me a single bad book so far. I trust you,” he says and smiles at Henry, who stares back at him with an expression he can’t pinpoint. A touch of wonder and intrigue, perhaps. Both quiet, neither of them looking away. Time screeches to a halt for Alex.
He’s never noticed how blond Henry’s eyelashes are.
It’s Nora who ends up breaking the connection with a loud snort.
“Get a room, you two.”
Alex swipes a napkin from the table and throws it haphazardly at her. She cackles at the way it lands short.
“Don’t you have a science fair to organize?”
Nora only laughs harder.
It hadn't been a lie. Alex doesn't care about The Rainbow Fish .
Sometimes when Henry is excited about a book, he'll announce it while he waits for his water to boil.
Other times, he keeps it a surprise. A secret between just them. Like the cake one..
It's the only one Henry outright confirmed was intended as a message. Strong arguments for the second one as well. Anything after is fair game for Alex's active imagination. It could just as well be a bit Henry grew tired of.
Alex isn't in the business of believing in conspiracies and wishful thinking. However...
He can't help but hope.
The book that day, a surprise book again, hits close to home too.
“And in the end, we are right here to live a life of love not fear, to help each other when it’s tough, to say together: I am enough.”
Alex swallows around the tightness in his throat. The thing is, he gets told he’s great a lot. He doesn’t often hear he’s good enough.
He wonders how different college would have been with someone like Henry around. Majoring in politics had been his dream right up until he had burned out while still feeling like he hadn’t made a shred of difference.
Perhaps if someone besides June had been there to tell him he was enough already, he wouldn’t have risen and disintegrated like a shooting star.
It’s over and done with, however. The fear of disappointing his parents was always worse than his own guilt.
The thing is… he does have Henry now, doesn’t he? More and more, his job feels like a team effort.
Alex knows he pours himself into everything he does. He could do it alone. He could work around a librarian who puts obstacles in his way, someone who is as deplorable as he thought Henry to be. But he doesn’t have to.
He gets smiles over morning coffees and debates during lunchtime and books that mean something.
—
Alex doesn’t know where he’d be without June. Probably nowhere near here. Probably still in D.C., slowly falling to pieces. Instead he is in Texas, on her couch.
And that would be a perfectly fine place to be if she hadn’t been so damn nice all evening. He loves his sister. He also knows her. She has been waiting for him to talk, biding her time, and when she sits down next to him and tucks her legs up, he knows that time is up.
“How’s Henry doing?” June asks, far too innocent.
“Fine, I guess?”
Alex fiddles with a loose thread at the hem of his shirt.
“When are you going to ask him out?”
His eyes snap up. Leave it to her to cut to the chase straightaway.
“I don’t know what Nora told you but it’s not like that.”
“Please, Alex. She didn’t have to tell me anything. You didn’t stop complaining about him for weeks and then suddenly you couldn’t stop explaining how great he is. You forget that I’ve been there during every crush in your life, lil bit.”
Alex sighs and sinks further into the cushions. A crush. He had avoided putting it into words but he can’t deny it.
“I don’t even know if he likes guys. We’ve been really good lately, we have a system and all. What if he’s straight and he has to reject me and everything gets awkward and fucked again?”
“What if he likes you back?”
The idea alone makes his stomach somersault again. Hesitation isn't like him. He’s never been interested in sleeping around but he enjoys dialing up the charm, likes flirting with people for the fun of it.
This isn’t Alex trying to get a New Year’s kiss from a stranger who will move on once the clock strikes five minutes after midnight, however.
He just can’t risk a good thing. And Henry is good.
“I really don’t want to assume, bug. I need… I don’t even know, a sign that there’s even a chance.”
“That serious, huh?”
He looks back at her, his feelings so big in his chest, too tangled up to form into words that inevitably get stuck in his throat. The silence is enough for her. She smiles gently and puts her head on his shoulder.
“I know it can be scary. But remember what dad always says, sometimes you have to jump and hope it’s not a cliff,” June whispers and lets the topic go for the evening.
Lunchtime with Henry and Nora should be considered legal torture. Bordering on illegal but Alex doubts that's a bill he can get to Capitol Hill.
Alex doesn’t know how to ask. He lets his eyes follow as Henry takes the last bite of a Jaffa Cake, watches the movement of his throat as he swallows.
Henry gives him a curious look and licks a trace of chocolate off his lip. Desperate to hide how hot his cheeks suddenly feel, Alex demonstratively scrunches up his nose.
“Don’t know how you keep eating those. Nasty.”
It’s not like it’s Alex’s own fault that he had stolen one once. Henry hadn’t minded. And his head thrown back in laughter had absolutely been worth the awful taste of chocolate mixed with orange.
Henry shrugs one shoulder and even makes that look elegant somehow. God, Alex needs to get a grip.
“More for me.”
Nora suddenly pierces their bubble with a sickly sweet grin and says, “So Henry, June would love to pick your brain about a novel she’s writing right now. How about dinner Friday? Should we expect just you or are you bringing someone?”
Alex glares and kicks her leg beneath the table. She doesn’t react.
“That sounds wonderful, I’d love to see June again. I could bring Pez? I think he’d be deathly offended if I didn’t, in fact.”
“Amazing, love Pez, always a hoot. Anyone else? A partner maybe? You know if they’re important to you they’re important to us.”
Alex wants to strangle her. His hands start sweating.
“No, I am very much single. No partner.”
“I get it, sometimes it’s just difficult to tell if someone is interested and then you start beating around the bush. Exhausting. Not me, to be fair. When I met June I told her ‘you’re a babe and I’m hot and bisexual’ and the rest is history. Communication is key. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Alex raises his eyebrows at her. That is not how she had told the story the last time. Or the time before. He isn’t sure he needs to know the details at this point.
For a second Henry’s eyes flicker towards him, then he focuses on Nora again with a small amused smile.
“I believe communication is incredibly important. But I do enjoy a bit of mystery and fun.”
It doesn’t send Alex spiraling. He doesn’t spend the rest of class time halfway spaced out. By story time he has as good as convinced himself that Henry had indulged her weird behavior for the sake of lunchtime peace.
Then he sees the book and his pulse starts racing. A story about a prince expected to marry a princess who instead finds his happy ending with a knight instead. A very much male knight.
“And on the two men’s wedding day, the air filled with cheer and laughter, for the prince and his shining knight would live happily ever after,” Alex finishes eventually, his heart so full it’s bursting at the seams.
Some mysteries are asking to be solved.
—
There is no special book the next day or the day after. Alex could just talk to him. At least he's sure enough now that Henry wouldn't shut the door in his face.
There's something thrilling about playing along with the mystery game, though. He just needs to let Henry know he's picking up the clues.
The electric kettle in the little staff kitchen takes forever. Henry refuses to heat his water in a microwave, however. It’s a thing. They’ve used up a whole break once arguing about it.
When Henry shows up at the teachers’ lounge exactly twelve minutes later, the water is boiling. He makes the connection almost immediately, his head snapping over to look at Alex, his mouth slightly open in astonishment.
“Safe from the microwave for another day,” Alex grins, incredibly pleased by the reaction.
Henry laughs and shakes his head. “Would you put your coffee in that microwave?”
A shudder goes through Alex at the idea. He faux glares at Henry. “That’d be criminal, sweetheart. Don’t even suggest that.”
“Of course. Thank you for the tea,” Henry replies, the tip of his ears going pink at the term of endearment. Which is exactly why Alex has been slipping them into his sentences more and more.
“We make a pretty good team, don’t you think?”
Henry hums noncommittally but his eyes are sparkling as he lifts his mug to his lips to gently blow at the hot tea. Alex is going to expire. His soul evaporated like steaming Earl Grey, killed by being too in love with a mischievous librarian. He hopes Shakespeare at least would be proud.
Alex doesn’t get a hint about the book. He doesn’t ask. The sound of the clock ticking, story time moving closer, has his knee jiggling nervously. He runs his hand so many times through his curls that the students start giggling about the way his hair sticks up.
He gets more than rewarded, the book he gets that day is beautiful. It’s not just about the value of friendship, like so many other children’s books. It’s about having a person.
“You’re the colors that I choose, and that paint I always use. You like pink and I like blue, I’ll make lavender with you,” Alex reads, his grin so big he has to take a breath before he can continue.
“You’ll be the key to my lock, the right shoe for my sock. The candle to my cake, my favorite wish to make.”
The one person he’s excited to see every day, to talk to, to argue with. The person he desperately wants to kiss and hold and never let go. Henry is his person.
—
It is entirely possible that Henry was right from the start. Alex is ridiculous. He still hasn’t talked to Henry.
There isn’t even a good reason beyond the sound of his own blood rushing through his ears whenever he thinks of Henry. The way his jaw clenches when Hunter makes an obtuse remark. How he gives new science books a gentle tap goodbye before handing them to Nora. His blue eyes crinkling when Alex makes an objectively terrible joke.
The second Alex sees the title of the next book, the storm in his mind calms.
He doesn’t need a perfect speech or an elaborate gesture. Henry has given him everything.
He has to clear his throat twice before he’s able to start reading to his class.
“We can say ‘I love you’ from oceans low to mountains high. Because we all say ‘I love you’ under the same big sky.”
The words stay with him while he waits for the last kid to file out, while he walks the few short steps across the hall, while he lingers in front of the entrance to the library.
Jump the cliff.
It’s simple. Henry will catch him. Not a single fiber in Alex is left with any doubt, so he opens the door.
The sense of deja vu makes Alex’s heart beat even faster. The library is still warm and bright, the low afternoon sun painting sprinkles on the carpet. But this time, Henry looks up immediately.
He takes Alex in, wild curls and soft edges, the picture book pressed protectively against his chest.
Without a word Henry puts his pen down and gets up from his desk.
Alex follows him to a big shelf, filled to the brim with colorful hardbacks. The kindergarten section.
There is a gap right between Prince & Knight and When I'm With You.
A small gasp escapes him. All the stories Alex still carries with him, neatly occupying the whole row.
He carefully slides his book back into its place on the shelf. Job done. But neither of them moves.
Alex reaches out a hand and traces the thin spine of the book. The blue and red of the title balanced by the white background. How Do You Say I Love You.
Lowering his hand again, he grins up at Henry cheekily.
“Te quiero. Spanish.”
Henry smiles back at him. It’s soft, teasing, so damn beautiful that Alex forgets why he was ever scared at all.
“It’s a bit early to say that, don’t you think?”
“I need to start teaching you early so you’re prepared.”
“And for what do I need to be prepared?”
“How incredibly charmed and in love you’ll be after our first date.”
Henry laughs. “Is that so? Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself here?”
“Would you like to go on a date with me?” Alex finally asks and it doesn’t feel like jumping. It feels like stretching out your limbs on a lake because you know the water will keep you afloat.
Gently Henry tugs at a strand of dark hair. He cups Alex’s cheek in his hand, as if he’s unwilling to let go.
“Je t’aime. French,” he whispers, his accent damn near perfect.
Alex fears his legs are going to give out under him. Of course Prince Charming speaks French. When he replies, his voice is hoarse.
“Fancy. Why French?”
“If you start practicing now you can woo me in Paris for our first anniversary.”
“Oh, we’re going to Paris for our anniversary? Who’s getting ahead of themselves now, Your Majesty?”
Instead of replying, Henry leans forward and after all this time, their lips meet.
Yes, Alex thinks, this is exactly where they’re both supposed to be. He smiles into the kiss.
Henry gifts him the te quiero after the third date. During their anniversary trip to Paris, Alex breathes je t’aime into his skin. And by the time they look at rings together, they both know the whole book by heart.