Orion || RWRB fanfic || Henry's POV

Part 29- Orion

Henry doesn't register how far he's wandered until he's hit by a wave of icy air. He huddles further inside his suit jacket as he trudges further into the garden, turning his glassy, listless eyes from the warm, twinkling light streaming onto the grass through the windows.

Dark silhouettes are visible through the glass, and as Henry shoves his fists in his pockets, he wonders if one of them is Alex- kissing Nora again, not knowing what's he's done- what he's doing to Henry.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, staring slightly cross-eyed up at the inky sky and distant stars. One finger traces the shape of Orion, like he's done so many times from the window seat in his bedroom at Kensington palace.

That feels like years ago.

Another place. Another time. Another life.

***

The soft sound of a door opening, the music echoing tinnily into the night, snuffed out the next instant by it closing again. He knows it's Alex even before he turns and catches sight of him- tripping over a bench in his usual dramatic entrance.

Moonlight tangles in his hair, his eyes glinting with stars, reflecting the sky, and as Alex trudges up to stand next to Henry, in the shadows clustered underneath a dark tree, it feels as though the night holds its breath. Waiting. Waiting for what Henry's going to do- how he's going to act. Waiting, and watching.

"What're you doing out here?" Henry squints down at him. Distantly, he knows he's drunk, knows the world feels like it's spinning out of his control, but he doesn't care. The corners of his vision are blurred with drink, but his eyes, when they look on Alex, are clear.

"Looking for Orion." He murmurs, distracted by the way the light throws Alex's face into sharp clarity- the way alcohol softens the curve of those lips and turns them upwards in a smile that makes Henry light up from the inside.

He's surprised he's not actually glowing.

Because however much pain Alex has caused him- however much pain Henry has had to endure for his sake, he's ready to forget it all. He already is forgetting it; all he can think about is Alex, and the way that if he bent down right there, he could kiss him. He could kiss the corner of that painfully beautiful mouth, and forget who he is- forget who they both are for those few precious moments he could steal from time.

Then an image of Bea flashes through his head; of Phillip, and his family, and the light inside him is snuffed out as he remembers what kissing Alex would do to them- to him. To his country. And he can't do that. He can't make them all suffer for one stupid, drunken mistake.

Only it wouldn't exactly be a mistake. It would be perfectly intended; if he did do it, he would kiss Alex knowing exactly what it would do to his life. Knowing exactly how it would destroy him- would leave him ruined.

He supposes Alex has always been like a storm to him- beautiful, but distant, destroying all those who get close enough to care.

But that's not fair- Alex has June and Nora. People who care about him, who love him. He's happy with them. He wouldn't want Henry messing everything up for him, and Henry seems to be very good at messing things up.

So when Alex huffs out a laugh, Henry takes a deep breath and looks away- away from that perfect face, even as every part of him rebels, every inch of him filling with longing.

"You must be really bored with the commoners to come out here and stare at the clouds."

"'m not bored." Henry mutters. And it's true- he could never be bored. Not around Alex. "What are you doing out here? Doesn't America's golden boy have some swooning crowds to beguile?" He tries not to sound bitter, and fails. But Henry needs to keep talking- needs to keep himself distracted- to stop himself from thinking about how close they are- how he can feel the heat from Alex's body, how his breath tickles the side of his face as he turns to look at him.