Chapter Text
Henry stares at him silently, and Alex can see the scales balancing in his head.
“I don’t think I can.”
Alex turns away from him, falling back on his heels like he’s been slapped. “Fine,” he finally says. “You know what? Fucking fine. I’ll leave.”
“Good.”
“I’ll leave,” he says, and he turns back and leans in, “as soon as you tell me to leave.”
“Alex.”
He’s in Henry’s face now. If he’s getting his heart broken tonight, he’s sure as hell going to make Henry have the guts to do it right. “Tell me you’re done with me. I’ll get back on the plane. That’s it. And you can live here in your tower and be miserable forever, write a whole book of sad fucking poems about it. Whatever. Just say it.”
Henry’s nostril’s flare. His eyes are inches from Alex’s, and Alex can feel the tension in the moment. He watches the scales balance. And he watches one of them fall.
Alex sees the second Henry makes his decision. He sees him look past Alex’s curls, to the gilded mirror on the other side of his room. He sees him release a tiny, earth-shattering sigh.
“Leave.” Henry says, his voice a whisper. His eyes are fixed on the oriental rug beneath their feet.
Frost licks its way over Alex’s heart. Dread. “Henry–”
“Alex.” Henry’s looking at him now, eyes red-rimmed and so, so dull. Alex, unforgivably, wants to kiss them.
“Leave,” Henry says, and his voice is cold as stone, cold as Alex’s heart, and Alex snaps his mouth shut and turns on his heel.
He flees.
_______
Five years later. 2024.
______
“Dude.” Nora says, loudly thumping a box of chinese takeout on his desk. “You look like shit.”
Alex doesn’t look up from his computer, his fingers still jumping on the keys at a mad-man rate. “I thought you were bringing coffee.”
“When was the last time you slept?”
“Last night, in your mother’s bed.”
Nora scoffed. “I can’t believe you’re twenty nine years old and you’re still making your mom jokes.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t bring me coffee.”
“I did,” she says, procuring an iced coffee out of thin air and shaking it obnoxiously. Alex finally looks up at the sound of it, like a dog to a bell.
“You’re the best,” he says, reaching for it. She promptly jerks it out of his reach, holding it above her head. He groans.
“You’re the worst,” he amends.
“And you’re clearly running on fumes. Like, seriously. You look scary. You can have the coffee once you eat some of this fried rice.” She nudges the box closer to him, and after a brief (but intense) stare-off, he concedes.
“Fine.” He opens the box, and the smell of the food makes his stomach rumble. He can’t remember when he last ate something. “What time is it, anyway?”
“10:36pm,” Nora says, pulling a chair up next to him and sitting on it backwards. “When did you get in this morning?”
“Mmgh,” he says through a mouthful of rice, hoping to pass it off as an answer. She’s clearly not fooled.
“Alex.”
“Like… seven?” Six, really, but.
Nora pursed her lips. “You’re lucky June didn’t come with me. She’d chew you out for–”
“Not taking care of myself, never leaving the campaign office, neglecting my family and personal relationships, and, of course, fanning the fire under my ass.” He lists them on his fingers, and frowns. “And probably for some other stuff, too, for good measure.”
Nora just sighs. “She’s right, Alex. You don’t sleep anymore. You don’t go out anymore– we couldn’t even drag you to Sunday brunch on Sunday when the office was closed–”
“I had important work to do!”
“You always say that, Alex.” This time, something hard and angry wove its way into her words.
Alex looked up at her. He’d been working a lot lately, but not much more than he had for years.
“You’re starting to sound like her,” he says, shoving a forkful of fried rice into his mouth.
“Well, forgive me for sounding like my fiancée!” she shot back.
Alex froze. Swallowed. “Your– Nora, what?”
Nora looked away. “Yeah, Alex. We’re getting married.” She haphazardly waved her left hand, and he caught a glimpse of an emerald ring before looking back to her face.
“Wha– Nora, that’s great! When did this happen?”
Nora looked at him, sighed, and looked away. “About a month ago,” she said. “We actually both proposed–”
“Wait,” Alex interjected, fidgeting with his spoon. “A month ago? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“We tried, Alex! Dinner at our place, remember? Then drinks that Friday night after? Coffee that next Tuesday? The walk by the lake that we planned on? Brunch on Sunday?” That last one came out forceful.
Alex winced. He had canceled on them, all of them. He didn’t– it didn’t seem like that much. He still saw Nora every weekday in the office, and June stopped by sometimes, but with all the chaos of the campaign– he’d only canceled when, really, it was something urgent.
It just always was something urgent.
“Nora, I’m sorry. I’m– I really hadn’t even realized. I–” He regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. He could feel his heart in his chest.
Nora only sighed. “You’re not yourself anymore, Alex. And– normally I’d just give you a slap on the wrist and tell you that you look like a 1920’s tuberculosis patient– which you do– but we’re worried. I’m worried. And June is hurt. Your soul has been absolutely sucked out by this campaign. This is exactly what she told you would happen.”
He looked down at the plastic spoon in his hand, realized it was shaking. He could see the veins in his wrist– green, spindly– and wondered when he got so pale.
June had told him that this would happen. Passionately. And many times. It was why she quit as his communications director early in the campaign.
He sighed and looked up at Nora, letting the exhaustion into his face. “I know, Nora. I do. I just–”
“Alex. Come on. Come get a drink with us.”
He looked at her. She looked back at him.
“Alex, seriously. It’s Friday night. Everyone else left hours ago. I’m meeting June and some friends at Deep Eddy’s in a bit and–”
“Nora.”
“Alex.”
He gestured lamely at his computer. “I just need to finish this… thing.”
She set the coffee down in front of him. “Meet us after.”
“But–”
“See you later.”
“Nora,” he said, but she was already walking out the door.
He sighed and took a sip of the coffee, then wrinkled his nose.
“Decaf, Nora, really?” he called.
She flipped him off through the glass walls of his office.
___
It was nearly midnight by the time Alex set foot in the neighborhood bar that he, June and Nora had appropriated as their own nearly a decade ago. He immediately felt out of place in a sea of unbuttoned polo shirts and pastel shorts– why hadn’t he left his blazer in the car?-- and shifted on his feet for a second before the bartender caught his eye and waved him over.
“Alex! Haven’t seen you in a while, my friend! You want the usual?” Bill’s hands were whirlwinds, popping limes in coronas and shaking cocktails, but his eyes never left Alex’s face as he grinned.
Alex offered a tired smile in return. “Hey, Bill. Yeah, the usual sounds good. Take your time, though. I know you’re busy.”
Bill laughed. “Take your time– I could kiss you! For you, though, I’m never too busy. I’ve hardly seen you since you became Representative Claremont-Diaz.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “You know, when I voted for you I didn’t know you’d turn into a ghost.”
Alex winced. “Yeah, seems to be going around.”
“June says you’re going for congress now, too.” Bill said as he popped off the cap of a Lone Star and slid it in front of Alex.
Alex nods once, smiling around the bottle as he takes a sip. “Doin’ my best to show Cruz what’s up.”
“I fucking hate that guy.”
“Yeah, well. That seems to be going around too. Let’s see if Texas hates him more than it hates the Latino democrat son of the first female president.”
Bill grimaces and shakes his head. “This one’s on me, amigo. And don’t try to pay,” he adds, as Alex opens his mouth. “Call it a good luck charm. Your sister’s playing pool in the other room– she’s been waiting for you.”
“Cheers, Bill. Good to see you.” He raises his beer and smiles before turning on his heel to go find June.