Chapter Text
Henry doesn't hate his parents. He truly likes them, that's the problem.
Because he is twenty-three years old and he's agreed to go on holiday with them. He had imagined an all-inclusive resort, one of those where people relax all day and only move to go eat.
It turns out, Henry was incredibly wrong about everything, except the place being all-inclusive. It's one of those places with those annoying holiday entertainers nagging you all day trying to make you do activities. He used to like those as a kid, but he thought his parents were past that phase. It turns out that his parents are having some sort of middle-life crisis and are back to enjoying the entertaining demons' welcoming day on their arrival, offering them a drink before they have to leave to get their room keys. They have already informed them of the activities tonight, although all Henry wants to do is eat his all-inclusive dinner and then go back to his room, to the single room his parents very nicely got for him. In the quiet of his room, he will read until he's too tired, and then wake up without an alarm for the first time in a while, with no deadlines or places he has to go to all day long.
“Oh! There's a nice excursion tomorrow morning we could all join!” Catherine says, all cheerful, holding a pamphlet.
He's not falling for that.
After dinner, he announces to his parents that he is not joining the excursion. He waits until the last moment until he's already opening his room's door because he knows that otherwise, they will start to lecture him about how much he has closed himself off to the outside world lately, how he barely spends any time with his friends in Oxford. He knows they come from a place of love, but he already has a therapist and he is on holiday. And he's most certainly not waking up at seven for an excursion. He closes the door behind himself, and takes a deep breath, as he leans against the door. Alone, at last.
He wakes up way past excursion time, his parents long gone to wherever it is they were going, he hasn’t even bothered remembering the place’s name. They're already blowing up the family group chat with pictures - it is a beautiful place, Henry has to admit, but catching up on sleep is even better. He checks his other texts while he's having breakfast, the most scrumptious buffet he has ever seen in his life.
“Hey, there's a game at the beach in twenty minutes! Are you joining?” Henry looks up, and sees one of those entertainment demons, with a huge smile plastered on her face. When he moves past the smile, he can see the deep, dark circles under her eyes and Henry wonders if pretending to be happy and cheerful for three or four months in a row is worse than doing a PhD. It probably is. It's probably even more underpaid. At first, he wants to be snarky to send her away, but then the thought that this poor girl is working all day long and gets paid something around three pounds an hour makes him act more polite.
“I will think about it,” he says, forcing a smile.
“Of course! You will find us at the -'' he tunes out after that because he sure won't be at the beach in twenty minutes nor the next three hours for that matter. He nods at her, smiles politely, and then she's off to the table behind him. He finishes his breakfast and goes back to his room, unsure of what to do next. Of course, the beach is off-limits. If the demon sees him, she will drag him into the game, whatever that is. He could stay in his room and read until his parents are back, but then he decides on the pool. He brings his noise-cancelling headphones, hoping that no more games are going on there. There's a timetable near the restaurant, he remembers, so he checks it as he goes back to the ground floor. There doesn't appear to be any activity in the pool for a few hours, so it's a safe space.
The pool is the spot populated by all the people his age. And all of them must be early birds because most of the deck chairs are occupied. Henry takes one of the only not occupied ones, takes off his shirt and lies there, reading his book, blissfully unaware of his surroundings thanks to his headphones and the loud music he's listening to. At least until some idiot gets out of the pool and splashes water all over him and his book.
“Do you mind?” He says, probably a bit too loud because he still has his headphones on, not bothering to turn off his music. He looks up at the culprit, whoever is that decided to shake themselves off like a dog right in front of him, and well. Henry almost forgets why he is angry for a second. Words are coming out of the guy's mouth, a very handsome mouth, a very handsome everything, truth to be told. Starting from a mess of dark, curly wet hair sticking to his face and ending with thighs that Henry is already picturing biting into. Henry can't stop staring and it's only when the guy points to his ears that Henry realises that he should be taking his headphones off and maybe listening to whatever he has to say. Right. “Sorry,” he says, looking down at the book that he's still holding between his thumb and index finger.
“I'm the one who's sorry,” the hot guy says. His accent sounds American. He thought the place was colonised by Brits only.
“It's fine,” Henry says, his tone wildly different from the one he used at first. Sadly the blood has flooded all over his nether regions, and his brain is not able to work at normal capacity anymore.
“I hope I didn't ruin your book?” Henry opens it up, there's a few splashes here and there but the ink hasn’t smudged too much, so it seems. He puts the bookmark back in and closes it finally, letting his hand rest. “Is that your choice for a summer read?”
“I - uh. Yes.” There are three more Russian books in his backpack. Plus his Kindle, in case he gets bored with them and wants to move to something different. The stranger doesn't need to know that. The beautiful thighed stranger simply nods and starts to walk away. Not that he thought that admitting that he reads Tolstoj for fun would do anything other than scare people away. But then something unexpected happens: the stranger backtracks, and walks in front of Henry's deck chair again.
“If you're not too busy reading Anna Karenina tonight, there's a party on the beach?”
“Oh.” Not a yes or a no, an oh , his mouth slightly parted as Henry forgets how to function again, now that the stranger has decided to invite him to a party. Maybe his parents aren't that wrong in worrying about his lack of interactions with people his age. “I mean. Yes. I will be there.”
He doesn't see the stranger for the rest of the day. He sees, however, his parents for lunch, when they're finally back from their excursion. His dad is already slightly sunburnt, despite Henry telling him to reapply sunscreen often. Sometimes he feels like he's the one parenting them. During lunch, they show him pictures and videos (as if the ones in the group chat weren't enough already), but all Henry can think of is grabbing the stranger by the hips during the party and kissing him in the middle of a drunken crowd.
As it often happens, when the time for the party arrives, Henry thinks he might skip it altogether. He doesn't have the guy's number anyway and he has, most likely, already forgotten about Henry, and asked everyone in the pool deck to come to the party. For all he knows the stranger could be one of the entertaining demons that works there. They could be sending hot men and women undercover to lure people to their games and parties.
There's a knock on his room door.
“Henry, we're watching a movie if you'd like to join us.” It's his mum. Henry takes a deep breath, evaluating his options.
“I can't, mum. I'm going to a beach party.” There's silence from the other side of the door. Obviously not the answer his mum was expecting. His son, going to a beach party?
“Oh. Have fun then, love!”
Henry wears a white shirt and linen pants - it seems a good enough outfit for a beach party. He wouldn't know, he's not exactly an expert on parties, let alone beach ones. He could've texted Bea, but he didn't want her to make fun of him for going to a party for someone he didn't even know the name of. Pez isn't even considered an option, as he would've probably suggested Henry go with his swim trunks only. So he walks out of the hotel and down the beach, where he can hear the music playing loudly already. He regrets it immediately when he sees the amount of people there, dancing along to the music, most of them holding plastic cups with colourful cocktails. He's still determining if he wants to end up in the middle of that, the liquid sloshing in and out of the cups. Henry moves through the crowd, braving the dangerous cocktail holders, until he sees him. The pool man. And it would have been great to finally spot him if only he wasn't very busy shoving his tongue down a girl's throat. He sees his hands touching her bare back, and it’s only when hers end up moving on his ass that Henry decides that he has seen enough. He takes a few steps backwards, and he stumbles upon someone, cocktail in a plastic cup now all over his white shirt. He moves to the crowd a lot more careless now, if someone else wants to throw their cocktails at him so be it. He rushes back to his room and takes a shower, feeling extremely stupid. it's always the straight guys he falls for.
Despite feeling like an idiot all evening, the next morning he's at the pool again. He has promised his parents that he will join them at wherever hidden beach they want to visit later today, but this morning he - well, Henry isn't exactly sure of what he wants. He wants to never see that guy ever again. He wants to see him every day for the rest of the week. He wants to shove him in the pool. He wants to shove him against a wall. It's a series of conflicting emotions. Henry is nothing but a series of conflicting emotions, come to think of it. So, this is nothing new, really.
He finds the first empty chair in the middle of the chaos and starts reading his book, headphones on, doing his best not to look around. He's almost done with his book, given that he has spent half the night unable to sleep, reading it. So much for a relaxing holiday and catching up on sleep. Very typical of him to get things ruined by a man who doesn't care one bit about him. At least he's going to leave this place soon and he will forget all about the handsome, olive-skinned man who - he’s not even able to finish his thought because Henry might have conjured him. There are droplets of water falling on his chair and Henry just knows that it's him He doesn't even need to look up to know that it's him. Henry clutches the book closer to his chest before the American criminal wets it all over again. Henry is tempted to ignore him, keep his headphones on, and make him taste his own medicine, but then Henry can't help but look up at him. It's unfair, really. This guy was sent on earth by someone who must hate Henry because he can't believe that someone so beautiful exists and it's so close to him right now but so out of reach at the same time. Henry pulls down his headphones on his neck.
“Hi. You didn't come last night.” If Henry didn't know what he was up to, he would say that the guy looked slightly disappointed.
“I did. You were just too busy to notice.” The guy frowns, before realising what Henry means.
“Oh. Fuck. Well.” He coughs and looks away. It gives Henry a certain satisfaction to see the stranger so flustered.
“It's fine. I didn't want to bother you.” Henry tries to sound as if he’s above it all, sitting up and straightening his back to look more confident.
“You wouldn't have -” He stops himself, and brings one hand to his forehead, pinching the space between his eyebrows. “Tell you what. There's another party my friend told me about tonight. It's not here, but if you want we can leave together from the hotel?” Henry doesn't know why the guy is insisting so much on making him do any social activity. Maybe he's not working here at the hotel. Maybe he has been hired by his parents. It would make a lot of sense. He could easily say no. Join his parents, who have plans to go into the nearby town and have dinner there. But then he looks into the guy's eyes, his stupid long eyelashes - he has to be AI-generated. He is a sum of everything Henry is attracted to. Once again, deeply unfair.
“Okay. We can do that,” Henry says, trying to keep his tone neutral.
“Can I add you on Insta? In case we don't find each other we have a way to communicate. I don't want to lose you tonight.” Oh bloody hell. Well, Henry can always block him once he's back home. Or in an hour. Avoid the pool for the rest of the holiday, and join his parents on their adventures so there’s no risk he will meet him again.
“Sure,” he says, in a tone that he hopes will convey his aloofness. As if getting added by hot men on Instagram is a regular occurrence for him. Henry gives him his name and the guy nods, smiling. He disappears somewhere behind him, and two seconds later he gets a notification on his phone. Alex Claremont-Diaz started following you. He takes off his headphones and decides it is time to brave the crowded pool. Alex. His name is Alex. He wants to - quite literally - drown in that name. Alex .
Joining his parents for the afternoon turns out to be a good idea because the beach his parents take him to is so secluded that there's no signal whatsoever, so he can't spend his time stalking Alex's Instagram profile. He thinks of that meme, no phones in sight, just people living in the moment. He swims away from the shore with his dad, with his mum shouting to pay attention to the boats passing by and not to go too far. Nothing has changed since he was a child, except that Philip and Bea aren't there. He's the only one racing against their dad now, and he's the one winning. When they were kids, Arthur would stay behind on purpose, but now Henry is stronger than his dad. It’s fun, to be out there and forget about his sorrows from last night for a while, to forget about those long eyelashes and curls and those bloody thighs. Bloody Alex .
The sea water burns his eyes, and it makes his body itchy, but he doesn’t mind, not when he gets to spend time alone with his dad, which happens so rarely these days. They stay in there for a while, looking at the shore from afar, Catherine now just a small dot. His dad doesn’t say anything, but Henry can tell that he's been observing him since this morning, trying to find clues on how last night went and how he’s feeling. His dad knows him well enough not to ask directly, although Henry wonders if this outing in the middle of the sea is not purely coincidental, but a way for his father to help Henry distract himself. To let him know that he’s there, for him no matter what.
When he comes back to his hotel room, despite how hot he feels all over because of the sun, Henry feels energetic, ready to face the night and Alex. He takes a shower before dinner, washing away the salt and the sunscreen from his skin, and Henry can’t help but think again about Alex and his smile and the water dripping all over his body, and his hand is on his cock before he can think about stopping himself, stroking himself as he pictures Alex on his knees, his lips around Henry’s cock, sucking him off, Henry’s hand pulling on his hair. He props his other hand on the cold tiles, trying not to lose his balance, and when he comes, Alex’s name is on the tip of his tongue. He stays like that under the water for a while, with his head leaning against the tiles, before his civic sense gets the best of him and he turns the faucet off, getting ready for dinner.
Henry doesn’t say much throughout the whole dinner, and when they’re done he informs his parents that he will be going out tonight as well.
“Oh. Have you made any friends?” Catherine asks, that certain glint in her eyes that suggests that she’s not thinking of friends.
“Uh. Maybe?” Henry answers, trying to ignore what his mum is implying.
“Okay, then. Have fun. Do not do anything I wouldn’t do!” His dad jokes, trying to break the tension. It doesn’t work, as Henry laughs nervously and makes his way to his room without a word. He takes a look in the mirror, his cheeks red from all the sun today, his hair a mess, but he doesn’t care for any styling tonight. Henry thinks back to his fantasy earlier, to Alex’s hand pulling it and - he sighs. That’s when there’s a new notification on his phone. It’s him, of course. He keeps on conjuring Alex just by thinking of him today.
hey i’m ready in five see u at the lobby?
Sure! He texts back, before wishing he hadn’t sent the text with that final exclamation mark because he doesn’t want to look too enthusiastic. As if Alex might understand from that simple punctuation mark that Henry was wanking in the shower thinking of him earlier.
Alex looks so beautiful, with his hair all styled tonight, a white shirt half unbuttoned and a pair of pants so tight that don't leave much to the imagination. It is somehow even hotter to Henry than when he’s in his swimming trunks.
“Hi!” Alex says, all cheerful, when he spots him. Henry, like the idiot he is waves at him.
“Hi,” he says back. “So, where are we going exactly?”
“It’s like, a twenty-minute walk. My friend Nora sent me the coordinates because she can’t join us ‘til later.”
“Why not? Where is she?”
“Oh. You don’t - right. Obviously, you don’t know. She works here.”
“What does she do?” Henry asks.
“Entertainment,” Alex answers. Oh no. Nora is one of the demons. Henry simply nods, because he’s not going to call Alex’s friend a demon in front of his face.
And so they walk towards the beach, following Google Maps directions, and Alex tells Henry about how he’s there for a few weeks exactly because of her friend Nora, who’s a genius who graduated from MIT and took a sabbatical exploring Europe and that’s how she ended up working in the South of Spain for the summer.
“What about you?” Henry asks him.
“Me? I graduated from the University of Texas this year,” Alex answers but doesn’t elaborate further, which Henry finds interesting because he had a lot more to say about Nora than himself. “And you?”
“Me? I’m doing a PhD in English at Oxford.”
“Oh, Oxford. Fancy.” Henry chuckles.
“Not as you might think. I wouldn’t call a year of sleep deprivation fancy, but to each their own I suppose.” So they end up talking about finals, and Henry finds out that Alex isn’t so different from him, with the long nights studying and cup after cup of coffee. He also finds out that he has a sister who will join him next week, so Henry tells him about Bea and the fact that she’s doing the Camino de Santiago this summer. Then the music starts to get louder and that’s when they know that they’ve arrived at the right beach. Alex takes his hand and immediately drags him into the middle of the crowd, and Henry tries not to think about the way his heart starts racing when that happens.
Henry is a terrible dancer, but after they had a couple of cocktails it gets slightly better, although he’s so bad all the alcohol in the world couldn’t loosen him up completely. He doesn’t care, though, because Alex is all over him and never leaves his side. More people join the party and despite them being in an open space they find themselves pushed together closer and closer, but maybe it’s not the amount of people around them, but rather a natural attraction, something like magnets. There’s a metaphor about the moon and the sea and the tides in there, but Henry is too busy staring at Alex to think clearly now. Unlike him, Alex moves so naturally to the music and he loves how contagious his enthusiasm is, and how he involves Henry to sing along to the songs as well. There’s an old song Henry remembers vaguely from holidays when he was a kid when Bea and Philip would take him to the dancefloor and hold his hands and make him dance with them. That innocence is long gone, as he hasn’t had a pure thought for hours now.
They’re so close now. His eyes are fixed on Alex’s lips, he wonders if they taste of chlorine from all the hours he spent in that pool, but then he remembers about last night, Alex kissing that girl, and he looks away.
“Hey!” Alex shouts over the music, and Henry looks at him quizzically. “I have a question for you.”
“What?” Alex comes closer, his lips brushing his ear. A jolt of electricity runs down Henry’s spine.
“Can I kiss you?” Oh . Oh.
“But you like girls,” Henry shouts back, like an idiot.
“Yes, and? I can like you too, you know.” Henry feels even more like an idiot, for not thinking about bisexuality or pansexuality or whatever Alex identifies as. What an arsehole he is, truly. A sorry excuse of a gay man, he is. A disgrace for the whole community. The music still plays, the song changes and Henry is still there, frozen on the spot, Alex so close to him, waiting for an answer. He simply nods then, and Alex doesn’t wait a second more to finally kiss him, everyone around them singing loudly to a Spice Girls song, Alex is kissing Henry and Henry can’t believe that he’s the one who gets to have his hands all over Alex’s back and in his hair. He can’t believe this is truly happening to him. Someone he likes wants him back? He’s worried he might have fallen asleep on the beach and he’s having a very vivid dream. But in a dream he could’ve never imagined so precisely the way Alex’s tongue moves around in his mouth or the way his hands are on his hips to bring Henry closer and those pants are so tight he can feel Alex’s cock against his and there’s no doubt they’re both getting hard. Fuck . Why is this beach so far away from their hotel?
“Should we get back?” He shouts into Alex’s ear, and Alex doesn’t even answer, he takes Henry’s hand in his again and leads him out of the crowd. Henry is now painfully aware of how long the walk back to the hotel is, and how Alex hasn’t let go of his hand even now that they’re not in the middle of the party anymore. They walk on the beach, at first not saying much, and as the music from the party starts to fade away, Henry is worried the silence might stretch and feel awkward, but it doesn’t. He looks at the moon, reflecting in the water, and then at Alex, and they both smile at each other, something passing between them that Henry can’t quite name, their fingers still intertwined. They make it back to the hotel and Henry prays that for some reason his parents aren’t coming back from their night out right about now, because that would be the most embarrassing encounter of his life.
“Mine or yours?” Alex asks when they’re entering the lift.
“Yours. I don’t want to risk running into my parents.” Alex chuckles and nods, and presses the second-floor button. When they’re finally in the room, Alex opens the room with his key card, the beeping sound that indicates that the door is opened. Henry thinks for a brief second about that girl from last night, if she was standing where he is standing now. He wonders if Alex brings a different person there every night. Still, in the end, this is a short holiday and this is just a fling, it doesn’t mean anything. This is just for tonight. It doesn’t matter much who Alex slept and will sleep with.
They enter the room and Alex starts to kiss him before the door has even closed behind them. He pushes Henry towards the bed, a mess as they both try to undo each other’s shirts, there are always so many buttons, fuck this, Henry thinks. The shirts are getting thrown somewhere on the floor, and then Alex is unbuttoning Henry’s pants and shoving him onto the bed, and Henry can’t believe that his fantasy from earlier in the shower is about to become real, although in a bit of a different scenario, Alex now on top of him, kissing him on the mouth and then the neck, sucking on it and Henry, fuck, Henry is moaning already and it’s embarrassing how much he likes it and he doesn’t even try to hide it. Then he moves to the collarbone and kisses him there.
“Fuck you have no idea - when I first saw you - yesterday - how much I wanted to do this -” Alex says between kisses, moving down Henry’s body. “You’re so beautiful, Henry.” He punctuates his sentence by kissing him right below his belly button, and this is a lot better than what Henry was picturing earlier (which is mortifying for someone who graduated in English and has always prided himself on having a very vivid imagination).
The anticipation of Alex’s lips on his cock is killing him, and when it finally happens, the loudest moan escapes him and, again, fuck, this is embarrassing. He’s acting like someone who has never had his cock sucked by anyone. Granted, it’s been a while. But not that long to justify such a reaction.
“Is this - okay?” Henry asks, with a certain difficulty, as he pulls on Alex’s hair, and Alex answers with a thumbs up. Henry dictates the rhythm and Alex follows along diligently and okay, yes, Henry has done this before several times but he has experienced tons of first blow jobs that were awkward and mid, and this is anything but. He grips onto Alex’s hair even more and he tries to tell him that he’s sorry but the sound that he makes is nothing if not a string of syllables with no real meaning. He is so close, and when he finally comes, Henry lets out a moan so loud he has no doubt that the whole floor has heard it.
“Is it fine if I kiss you?” Alex asks, once he has made his way back next to Henry, and he nods, not minding one bit to taste his own cum in Alex’s mouth.
He can feel Alex’s hard cock pressing against him now, his pants still on, and as they kiss Henry unbuttons them, and then manages to get on top of Alex, never interrupting the kiss, doing it so only to start sucking on his earlobe and Alex begging him to fucking get rid of his pants, and Henry smirks. Alex mutters something in a language that Henry guesses it’s Spanish. Not a compliment, for sure, if the tone is any indication. Once again Alex begs him, begs him to do something about his pants, but Henry doesn’t like to get told what to do, so he takes his sweet time, Alex’s swear words getting more and more creative as Henry moves to kiss his neck and then down to his chest as he licks one of his nipples. He looks down then and sees a wet splotch on his pants.
“Try to be a good boy and not come for me for a while longer?” He says as he looks into Alex’s eyes. He can see the way his whole expression shifts, a glint in his eyes that wasn’t there before, his pupils fully dilated now.
“Oh, fuck I -” Alex sighs loudly. “I hate you,” he manages to say, and Henry continues on his slow journey across Alex’s body, admiring every single inch of it. He kisses down his stomach slowly, and then just as slowly he takes off his pants and underwear, and Alex sighs in relief. Henry teases him a bit more, taking Alex’s cock in his hand and licking the tip, and Alex tells him once again what an asshole he is. Henry takes another look at his beautiful cock before finally putting his lips around it, and Alex takes his vengeance by immediately gripping hard on his hair, but Henry doesn’t mind one bit. He sucks and licks the whole length of Alex’s cock, and he’s surprised by how long Alex manages to resist before finally coming into Henry’s mouth, considering how desperate he was from the start. He stays there for a while longer after he has swallowed until Alex begs him to “come over here and kiss me, you asshole,” and Henry does as he’s told, for once. For this one time. “Fuck, who thought a book nerd like you -”
“Hey, what is that supposed to mean -” Henry says, almost offended. “I don’t think that reading Anna Karenina and giving decent blow jobs are mutually exclusive.”
“Oh, you thought that was just decent?” Henry shrugs.
“You tell me.”
“That was - no I’m not gonna tell you,” Alex smirks. Henry rolls to the side then, looks up at the ceiling, and takes a deep breath in. He wonders if he should go back to his room, or stay there a little longer, and go for round two. He sure wouldn’t mind teasing Alex a bit more, and Henry does not doubt that he wouldn’t mind either.
In the end, after an internal debate that lasts for about five seconds, Henry decides to stay.
He leaves later when Alex is asleep and it’s almost dawn outside. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want his parents not to find him in his room when they knock on his door in the morning, but he knows it’s because of something else entirely. As if spending the night might make leaving a lot harder. Henry doesn’t want to delude himself into thinking that this is more than a one-night stand.
Henry sleeps for only a couple of hours, barely hearing his mum’s knock outside his door.
“Are you coming down for breakfast with us?” Catherine asks.
“Yes. Give me five minutes!” He tells his parents to wait for him downstairs, and then he slowly gets out of bed, wears a clean t-shirt and swim trunks he takes out of his suitcase. He drags himself to the lift and pushes the ground floor button. He almost hopes for the lift to stop on the second floor, for Alex to enter. For them to kiss for those two seconds before the ding of the lift informs them that they’re on the ground floor, but the lift doesn’t stop on any other floor, and then he joins his parents at their table. They ask him about the party, and he tells them that it was fun, and makes up a story about dancing all night long with some new friends he made. His parents nod throughout his whole tale and seem to be very pleased with their son finding new friends. It’s only later when he’s back to his room and he looks at himself in the mirror in the bathroom, that he realises that he has a very visible hickey on his neck.
hey if you hurry i’m keeping a free chair for you next to mine
it’s not allowed technically but i know important people here
Henry chuckles as he reads Alex's texts. He’s surprised Alex is texting him, somehow he was expecting him to ignore him completely and move on to the next person, like he did with that poor girl from the other night, after all. He takes a quick look at his neck again, but there’s not much he can do about it, it’s not like he’s going to wear a scarf when it’s over 30 degrees outside, is he? So he leaves his room and heads to the pool. He doesn’t even bring his book and headphones with him this time around.
“Good morning,” Alex says, all smiles, lying on his chair, sunglasses on. Henry stands there like an idiot, looking at Alex and thinking back to everything they did the night before, at how he kissed almost every corner of that body. He now lets himself think he will be able to do it all over again tonight.
“Don’t stand there like an idiot and sit - oh.” He can see Alex’s eyes finally landing on his neck. “Oh shit. I’m sorry. Did your parents see that?”
“They sure did, and I lied straight to their faces because I didn’t notice until I came back to my room after breakfast,” Henry explains, as he lies down on the deck chair next to Alex.
“Oh shit. I’m so sorry,” Alex says, sounding everything but.
“You know that’s not exactly believable if you say that with that smile on your face, right?”
“Yeah, like. I can’t lie, that's very good work,” he admits. “And it’s not my fault your skin is so sensitive.” Henry rolls his eyes.
“Care to put my sunscreen on, since my skin is so sensitive?” He asks as he takes off his shirt.
“Oh I don’t mind at all,” Alex teases him, and Henry tosses him the tube, almost hitting him in the face, but Alex catches it before it does. It would’ve served him right.
It’s nice to have Alex’s hands on him, carefully putting the cream all over his body, as he keeps on making jokes about how white Henry is. He could’ve easily put the sunscreen back in his room like he did the previous two days, but he couldn’t pass on the opportunity of having some physical contact with Alex this morning. When he’s done, he squeezes Henry’s shoulders, makes fun of him one last time, and then asks him if he wants to go into the pool for a while. Henry agrees, and they spend the rest of the morning pretty much just soaking in the water. He’s not even mad about the amount of people that are around them. There’s some game activity that starts not long after, and even then Henry isn’t even remotely bothered. He gets his cock sucked one night and suddenly he can’t bring himself to hate anyone anymore.
“If it makes you feel any better,” Alex tells him at some point. “You might have lied to your parents, but I completely forgot to tell Nora that we were leaving last night. She sent me around a thousand texts and called me ten times.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Was she mad?” Henry asks, genuinely concerned. Alex explains to him that she was at first but she understood, and that he was thinking about taking her to Seville for her day off tomorrow, to do some touristy things. Then he asks, without missing a beat, if Henry wants to join them. Henry was most definitely not expecting that to happen. And he is not quick enough to think of a good excuse for saying no to it, so he ends up saying “I will let you know later today.”
“Do you have any plans in the afternoon?” Alex asks suggestively.
“Oh - yes. With my parents. But - what about after dinner?”
“My room?” Henry nods, as he finally decides that it’s time to get out of the water. He doesn’t want to let Alex see how much he’s smiling at the idea of spending another night like the previous one in his room.
Another day, another beach with his parents. Henry doesn’t even ask them, he just hops in the car and lets them drive him wherever their hearts take them. It’s a bit more awkward than the day before, though, because obviously his parents want to ask him about the hickey so badly but they keep on talking about every random topic they can come up with, wars and politics and Brexit and Bea doing the Camino de Santiago, and Philip and his wife Martha buying a new house. It’s huge, the elephant in the room. Rather, in the car.
Henry has brought his book with him, but he can’t focus on it anymore. He is almost done with it, but he keeps on re-reading the same lines a thousand times, so in the end, he gives up and asks his dad if he wants to go for a swim. It turns out to be a huge mistake because Arthur doesn’t waste the opportunity to finally ask Henry about the hickey.
“So, who’s the lucky lad?” Arthur asks him when they stop swimming. Henry is tempted to swim back to shore immediately. “Or I should say, you seem to be the lucky lad here -”
“Dad, please.” Henry sounds desperate, very close to drowning himself to escape from this very embarrassing moment and the general anguish of having a summer romance that will inevitably end in five days.
“It’s fine, I’m just joking around a bit. You’re old enough to know what you’re doing, right?” The thing is, Henry doesn’t really know.
For the first time that evening, Henry sees Alex at dinner, sitting by himself at a table. He immediately notices that Henry is looking at him, and smiles at him before Henry turns away, his eyes very much fixed on his now empty dish.
i won’t come over there if that’s what you’re worried about, Alex texts him immediately.
I’m not worried about you. I’m just thinking about what to get for a second course.
oh you looking at me like i’m a piece of meat
Alex.
yes?
Later.
Oh, he hates him. Henry hates him, as he looks over at Alex and thinks that he wants to wipe that smirk away from his face. Carrying through conversations with his parents turns out to be quite the task that evening. He sees Alex leaving when Henry is halfway through his meal, and he announces that he’s not hungry anymore so he can skip dessert.
“Oh, you’re getting a different type of dessert tonight, aren’t you?” Catherine says before she starts to laugh. They’ve had wine with their dinner, which Henry suggested as a way to ease up his nerves, but it turns out to be the thousandth bad decision he makes that day.
“Catherine,” Arthur tries to reprimand her, but then he laughs along too.
“See you in the morning,” it’s what Henry tells them before leaving, not even dignifying them with an actual response.
He’s on the second floor when Henry realises he doesn’t remember Alex’s room number. He knows they turned right when they got off the lift, but it’s a long corridor with twenty doors that all look the same. And last night between the cocktails and the blood moving very quickly from the brain to his southern regions, Henry wasn’t exactly focusing on where they were going.
Room number? He quickly types.
234 , The answer comes immediately. Turns out he’s on the wrong corridor entirely. Henry quickly walks to the other side - not running just because some other guests are walking towards him and he doesn’t want to appear completely insane, although he very much is. He knocks on door 234, and he wonders if Alex is right behind it waiting for Henry to arrive, because he opens the door about half a second after Henry’s knock. He barely lets Alex say hi to him before Henry starts to kiss him, closing the door with his foot, and this time he’s the one shoving Alex on the bed. Alex is already half-naked, wearing only a pair of shorts.
“You and your parents talk and eat too much,” Alex complains, and fuck, Henry stops for a second to contemplate him again, as he expectantly looks up at Henry to join him on the bed. Ready for Henry to take him apart once again tonight. “I’ve been waiting for ages -” Henry then finally joins on the bed, kissing Alex to interrupt his rant.
“Don’t talk about my parents right now, I beg of you.”
“You enjoy telling me what to do,” Alex tells him, his tone shifting to something different now, a bit rougher maybe. “And I enjoy getting told what to do, so I guess our meeting was fate.” Ah . Henry gets on top of him next and tries not to think, trying not to think about the word fate, because he knows it’s just mindless flirting. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just that they’re very compatible, sexually speaking, nothing else.
“So, what about you moving those pretty arms of yours on top of your head?” Henry asks him, tone resolute. He doesn’t waver. He is in control of this, he is.
Alex does as he’s told, and Henry leans closer to Alex’s face so he can put his hands together and pin them to the pillow by holding firmly on his wrists. “Is this okay?” He asks, and Alex nods.
“Very much so.” Once again, Henry loves to see the immediate reaction in Alex’s eyes, the way his whole face changes demeanour.
“I’ve been thinking about this - where should I mark you for everyone to see tomorrow?” Henry asks. Looking down the length of Alex’s torso. He would mark him everywhere, and let everyone know that Alex is his. For the rest of the week, that is. He brushes his lips lightly on Alex’s neck, never letting go of the pressure on his wrists, using the other hand to steady himself. Alex's first vocal reaction makes Henry want to stop all this, take off both their trousers, fuck him senseless. But he doesn’t. He’s a man on a mission. He moves down his body, almost reaching the rim of Alex’s shorts, but then moves back up, leaving light kisses all over. He prides himself on turning Alex into such a mess while they’re both still wearing clothes. He keeps on grinding on Alex’s hard cock and despite all the fabric in between them, Henry has the feeling they could both come from this. He wouldn’t be able to wear his favourite trousers for the rest of the week, but it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make.
Henry sucks on his nipple then, seeing how Alex liked it last night, and then moves back up to the space between his collarbone and his neck. Henry has no idea why he has been thinking about it ever since he was on the beach with his parents, flashes of Alex’s body through his mind as he swam in the Mediterranean Sea. Maybe he’s delirious because of all the sun and the warmth. He’s not used to it. And so this is where he is going to leave his mark.
“Hen - Ah. Fuck. I can’t believe I’m saying this but - fuck. I’m close,” Alex tells him, voice on the brink of complete despair.
“But you’ve been so good yesterday, I’m sure you can be today as well?”
“I’m trying,” Alex says through gritted teeth. Henry doesn’t dare look up at him now, and sinks into Alex’s skin, sucking hard - Alex’s olive skin requires a bit more work than his own, that’s for sure, but Henry doesn’t mind the extra effort, especially if it means hearing Alex moaning louder with every passing second. He looks up for a second then, satisfied with the result, but he decides that it’s not enough. He moves to Alex’s neck next, sucks on there too, and now his outstretched arm holding Alex’s hands down is starting to hurt, but it’s fine. He licks on the sore spot on Alex’s neck, before finally looking him in the eyes.
“See, I told you. You’ve been good,” Henry compliments him, enjoying Alex’s immediate reaction to the praise. “You can come now.” As he says that, Henry starts grinding harder, and Alex comes after a couple of thrusts. Henry follows him soon after, finally releasing the grip he has on Alex’s arms, and collapsing next to him.
“Fuck,” it’s all Alex says before turning onto Henry’s side, his body half lying on top of him. “I didn’t know I liked that.” He kisses Henry briefly. Henry ignores how the kiss makes him feel - as if he’s on the verge of a precipice from which he will fall very soon.
“Coming into your trousers?” Henry teases him. It’s all very uncomfortable right now, his underpants and trousers are sticking to his cock and the whole pubic area.
“Yeah, not that. But - like. The rest. Yeah.”
“Very clear, thanks for explaining, Alex.”
“Oh, shut up,” Alex says, as he collapses back on the bed. Henry already misses Alex’s body pressure on him. “Shower?”
“Yes, please,” Henry answers, and he immediately takes off his clothes, scattering them on the floor.
“Leave them here, I will bring them to the laundry service in the morning,” Alex tells him, so casually. So domestic. Henry can’t get into the bathroom faster. He can’t allow himself to think.
The thing is, the shower doesn’t make things any better. If only, they make it even worse. Henry gently helps Alex get clean, kisses his wrists, and asks him if they hurt, but Alex assures him that he’s very much fine. More than fine actually, he says, smirking. Henry should be leaving after the shower. It’s all so intimate and soft and Alex leaves sweet kisses all over Henry’s chest and neck, and it’s even worse than the sex. Henry thinks he will think about the way Alex softly kisses his shoulder as he’s hugging him under the shower for a very long time. It doesn’t get any better, later, when they’re back in bed and he lets Alex fuck him, face down on the bed.
“I’m an idiot,” Henry says a while later while they’re cuddling in bed. The fact that they’re cuddling could be considered enough of a reason for him to be an idiot, but that’s not why he’s saying it out loud.
“I wouldn’t disagree with it, but why specifically?” Alex teases him.
Henry has an arm around him, his hand softly combing through Alex’s hair, who has his head lying on Henry’s chest, one arm resting on his torso. Henry has to get out of here very fast. Except there’s a little problem.
“I have to go back to my room and I don’t have any clean clothes.”
“Oh. Right. Take the robe?” Alex suggests.
“That’s a good idea. Who knew you could come up with one.” Alex looks up at him then, but he’s not smiling, he looks slightly concerned.
“You’re not leaving already, right?” He asks, punctuating the question by holding onto him a bit more.
“I - yes, I think so.” Alex sighs then, but for now, he doesn’t let go of him.
“At least you have the decency not to run while I’m sleeping this time.” He sounds bitter almost, and Henry doesn’t want to dwell too much on why that is. There’s no reason to.
“Sorry,” it’s all he manages to say.
“Yeah, well.” He moves his arm back to his side and rolls to let his back rest on the bed. Henry takes it as his cue to get up. The atmosphere has changed completely in the room, something intangible but at the same time heavy, and he knows that it’s all his fault. But it has to be done. He has to cut ties now or it will be too late. “So, see you in the morning?” Right. The trip to Seville with his friend Nora. Henry picks up the robe from the floor, so he doesn’t have to look at Alex as he says it.
“Oh, right. No - I - forgot my parents had already booked a trip on a boat tomorrow.” It’s not a lie, technically. Henry was the one who proposed the boat trip, right before dinner. He wears the robe finally, tying it fast, just in the rare chance that he might end up meeting someone in the corridor. He doesn’t want to risk flashing anyone.
“Oh. Okay. Send me pictures from the trip?” Alex asks, in an attempt to sound light-hearted.
“I will,” Henry answers, but he knows he won’t. “Goodnight, Alex,” he says, not even looking at him as he opens the door.
“Goodnight, Hen,” Alex says back, and then Henry is out of the room, he doesn’t even remember how he makes it back to his room, where he cries himself to sleep.
Henry wakes up with a terrible headache, and since he has learned his lesson, he checks himself in the mirror before leaving for breakfast. His eyes are still red and puffy from all the crying and the lack of sleep, so he throws some cold water on his face, hoping that it will help slightly. It does, or at least he convinces himself that it does. He makes the mistake of looking down at his neck, at the mark that Alex left there and will stay there for days, maybe even after he’s back home. He grazes his fingers on it, just like Alex did last night in the shower. He throws some more cold water on his face, this time to avoid starting to cry again.
It’s a long boat trip, the longest the hotel has to offer. The whole day long, with stops at different beaches. It should be fun, and they’re seeing some very beautiful spots, but Henry doesn’t care much. He puts his phone on aeroplane mode so he can take pictures but he’s not tempted to check Alex’s Instagram stories and he doesn’t have to avoid the texts that he’s sure are coming.
Henry knows this is the right choice. He can’t spend three more nights fucking and cuddling with Alex, it would only hurt a lot more once he has to go back to London. He’s only preventing them from suffering a lot more. It hurts now, but in a matter of weeks, Alex will be only a good memory, a good fuck from that one time he went on holiday in the South of Spain, nothing more. He will remember him with a smile, even. He can’t smile right now, as much as he's trying for his parents. There will be questions in the evening, he knows. He notices the way they’re both looking at him, the concern, the whispers when he’s looking in the other direction. He takes a thousand pictures of the sea, the beaches they stop at, and his parents, cuddling on the boat, and he is slightly mad at them for giving Henry unreal expectations about love. It’s all lovely, really. Especially when they stop in the middle of the sea and he jumps into the water, nothing around them, just miles and miles of open water, and his parents act like two kids, splashing water at each other and then involve Henry in a swim race that he ends up winning. Arthur protests, and says that it wasn’t a fair fight because Henry is half their age. He laughs then, for the first time that day. It’s the first and last moment he doesn’t think of Alex that day.
The three of them are on the last beach of the tour in the late afternoon, exhausted, eating some fruit Catherine has packed in the morning.
“Who wants an ice cream?” Arthur asks when he spots a kiosk not far from where they are.
“See, that’s who I had to fight with when you were a kid. I got you the fruit, he got you ice cream. No wonder he’s always been your favourite.” Catherine says this while she watches her husband walk away with a fond smile. So many years in and Henry is always surprised by the two of them constantly looking at each other as if they haven’t been together for almost thirty years.
“That’s not true,” Henry says with a smile. “I love you both equally.”
“Exactly what someone who has a favourite parent would say.” They both laugh at that, and for a moment Henry’s heart doesn’t feel as heavy. Catherine shifts closer to Henry and caresses her son’s cheek. “I don’t know what is going on, love, I hope that boy hasn’t been mean to you -”
“ Mum ,” Henry's voice breaks by just saying that simple syllable. He doesn’t want to talk about it, or he will start to cry right there in front of his mum. It’s not a conversation he wants to have, because she will ask him about his feelings and he’s not ready to elaborate on them out loud. It’s pathetic, that there are even feelings to discuss about. “Can we not talk about it, please?” He asks. Catherine sighs but nods.
“Alright,” She takes her hand off his cheek and kisses him in the same spot. “I just want you to be happy, that is all.” It’s a good thing Arthur is back with the ice creams, so his mum gets up to help him and neither of them notices Henry quickly wiping away the tears from his eyes.
When the boat takes them back to the beach right in front of the hotel, they’re all exhausted from the long day, going back to their rooms without talking much. Only when he’s back there and lying on his bed, Henry turns the internet connection back on. He’s all sticky and sweaty from the day, but he needs a minute before taking a shower. There are mostly messages from the family group chat, which his parents have updated throughout the day.
It’s a good thing that Henry is there with you so I know he’s alive , Bea wrote at some point. He feels guilty now, so he reads through his sister’s messages in their private chat, and texts back an apology and a few heart emojis.
What’s with the hearts? You’re acting in a very odd way. Will you tell me… He swipes away the notification, without even bothering to find out what the rest of the text says. As he wonders whether to delete Instagram altogether for a couple of days, a new notification pops up on his screen. have i done something wrong? There’s more, but he has to open the chat to read the rest. He doesn’t want Alex to know that he is online and has seen the texts.
Henry decides to take a shower, hoping he will find an answer on what to do next while standing under the hot water. All he can think about in there, though, is how last night he was in a shower that looked exactly like that one, holding onto Alex, Alex kissing his shoulder. He doesn’t know how long he stays in there, crying so much he runs out of breath.
He’s exhausted and he hasn’t found any answer when he lies back on his bed, wearing nothing but his underwear, too tired to care about what to wear for dinner. He’s thinking of skipping it altogether. He has spent the whole day with his parents, and they won’t mind if he stays on his own tonight. He might even finish his book.
(He doesn’t believe that at all, obviously, but it’s nice to imagine that for a second: a relaxed evening, just for himself, getting lost in a book, like he had planned to do for the whole holiday. But instead, all he’s got lost in is Alex).
Henry finally decides to check Alex’s messages. There aren’t many, a few from the morning, telling him to enjoy his boat trip, a selfie of him and his friend Nora on a train. A couple of pictures of Seville. It looks beautiful, Henry thinks as he scrolls through.
it’s over 40c (had to google that for u) and we’re dying
A few more pictures after that, and then another text:
is everything alright?
It only takes those three words for Henry to start crying again. No, Alex, nothing is alright and all I want is to hold you through the night as you tell me that everything will be fine. But it won’t be, so what’s the point? Then there’s the last text, the one he sent most recently.
have i done something wrong? u could’ve said if u didn’t want to see me again or something last night at least just tell me straight to my face just not this ghosting bullshit
He doesn’t answer but he gets a new message not long after.
good to know i don’t even deserve an answer
Henry reads back through the texts, even the ones from the days prior. There is so much he wants to say. But he doesn't want to give Alex any hope, so he simply types an earnest I’m sorry, and then puts the phone on his nightstand. He only picks it up to text his mum that he won’t be coming down for dinner and then decides he doesn’t want to look at it for the rest of the night. He doesn’t even pretend to pick up his book, which is lying on the nightstand under his phone. There’s no way he will be able to understand a single word printed on the page. He stares at the ceiling instead, trying to ignore the growing pain in his chest.
There’s a knock on the door. He must’ve fallen asleep, so it takes Henry a few seconds to understand if the sound is real or just something he conjured in a dream. His head feels heavy, almost like he’s hungover. He can still see some lights filtering through the curtains, so it can’t be that late. Maybe his parents want him to join them for their movie night, and he might even do it, maybe fall asleep on his mum’s shoulder like he did when he was a kid. He wouldn’t mind pretending he’s ten again for one night, a happy kid with not a worry in the world, watching a movie in bed with his parents.
Henry grabs a t-shirt and a pair of shorts he has left on a chair and puts it on before opening the door. But on the other side of the door, there aren’t his parents. There’s Alex. Alex, whose eyes look just as red and puffy as his. His hair s a mess, his curls falling into his eyes.
“How did you know my room number?” It’s the first thing Henry asks him, crossing his arms on his chest, as to assert the physical distance between them. Because if he doesn’t he might want to touch him, caress his cheeks. Kiss the pain away. But Henry is the reason the pain is there in the first place, right?
“I told you, I know important people here,” Alex answers, trying to make a joke but it falls flat, especially when his voice is so low and raspy, and there’s not a hint of a smile on his face.
“Alex, I don’t think this is a good idea -”
“Can you please tell me why -” They both say at the same time, but a couple walks past Henry’s room, so they both stop talking as they wait for those people to enter their room. The couple looks at them pretending not to be interested, obviously having eavesdropped on the previous part of the conversation. Henry sighs, and motions for Alex to come in.
They stand awkwardly in front of each other, in the middle of the room. Henry is resolute in keeping the distance between them, otherwise his resolve will easily crumble - especially when he takes a better look at Alex and notices how visible the two hickeys he left on his skin are. If he takes a step closer, he knows he will succumb to whatever this thing between them is. Whatever that might be called. He hasn’t dared figure it out. He doesn’t want to think about spending another night together. About leaving some more marks on Alex’s skin, about the way Alex looks at him when - fuck . Henry has to look away.
“I’m waiting to hear your reasoning,” Alex finally says.
“What do you want me to say? That this - it’s pointless, Alex.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because I will go back home in three days, and you will stay here, and meet new people. It’s summer, you’re on holiday, it’s inevitable.”
“It’s inevitable ,” Alex repeats and then scoffs. “I thought you were smarter than this, I guess. My mistake.” Henry looks back at him. The softness that Henry saw in Alex’s eyes last night is gone, replaced with bitterness now.
“Well, you don’t know me that well, do you?” Henry spits out. He knows how to take out his bad side, to use it when the situation requires it. Alex doesn’t deserve it, but it’s the only way he has to push him away.
“Clearly I don’t. Like, at all.”
“I didn’t know what you thought, fucking me a couple of times and thinking you did know anything about me at all -” He sees the hurt in Alex’s eyes as he says it, and Henry hates himself for it. Maybe in different circumstances, if they had met while they lived in the same city, if they lived in the same country, even - but that’s just a silly fantasy. Reality is a lot harsher, and this is their reality.
Alex turns towards the door, and then he turns back to look at Henry. “So, uh. Yeah. I guess - I might come over to bring your clothes back tomorrow, but I won’t annoy you anymore.” Henry nods but doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t want Alex to leave. He wants to push him against the wall, he wants Alex to beg him to touch him, and he wants to make him come as he screams Henry’s name. He doesn’t want to think about Alex going to a party, or sleeping with someone else tomorrow. But there’s not much he can do about it. He doesn’t get to keep Alex.
Alex turns towards the door once again, and Henry waits for Alex to finally get hold of the handle, turn it down and leave. He sees him grab the door handle, but then he stops. Alex doesn’t move, Henry only sees the way he hunches his back, his face turned towards the door.
“Just so you know, if I wanted to sleep with someone else I would’ve already had. I don’t just go around asking people if they want to join me and my best friend - well, it doesn’t matter anymore now anyway.” And then he finally opens the door and goes out of the room. Henry doesn’t realise until Alex leaves that he was holding his breath the whole time.