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“Fine. You know what? Fucking fine. I’ll leave.”
“Good.”
“I’ll leave,” Alex said, turning back to Henry and leaning in, his eyes bright with fury and hurt, “as soon as you tell me to leave.”
Henry stared at him. At the rain water dripping from his beautiful, wild curls, at his stunning, long lashes clinging together from the wetness, at the way his face contorted in anger.
He was trying to hurt Henry. He was lashing out. And Henry knew he deserved it.
He was the one taking Alex’s heart and leaving it on the floor to bleed.
He deserved every blow Alex threw at him, and more.
“Tell me you’re done with me,” Alex hissed, all in Henry’s face now. He could smell him, and Henry tried not to get lost in the way his body responded to his proximity. “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 stared at him, at the pain in those beautiful eyes, and reminded himself that, even if Alex thought they were happy now, in the long run, he’d just be drawn into that very tower with Henry.
He couldn’t do that to him. So he had to let him go.
“I want you,” Henry said, slowly but clearly, “to leave.”
Alex jerked back, looking like he’d been slapped. Henry saw tears in his eyes which he quickly tried to blink away.
Alex nodded jerkily. “Okay,” he breathed. “Have it your way.”
And then, he turned, storming out of his room the way he'd come, dripping and slamming the door.
Henry stared at the wet carpet for a moment. Then at his signet ring on the mantel.
His knees gave out and he sank to the floor, feeling cold all over.
“But I thought you were happy,” Bea sighed.
“I was,” Henry shrugged.
“Then why -”
“You know very well that we can never be together out in the open,” Henry shook his head. “I can never be what he needs me to be. And he deserves more than that.”
“You could try?” Bea insisted.
“How?” Henry laughed, his voice cold and humourless. “You know Grandma would never let me. And Philip certainly won’t side with me.”
“You could talk to Mum?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Bea.”
She just looked at him as he paced.
“Even if I, by some miracle, were somehow allowed to love him freely,” Henry continued, “What kind of life would we have? He wouldn’t be happy here, and I can’t follow him. There’s no place for us.”
“Are you happy here?” Bea asked quietly.
“You know the answer to that,” Henry rolled his eyes.
“Then why can’t you follow him?” Bea shrugged. “Why don’t you fight for what you want, Henry? Fuck Grandma, fuck Philip! Fuck the Crown!”
“Bea!”
“You know I’m right, don’t look so scandalised! What have they ever done for us, Henry? I mean, really?”
“I - I can’t,” Henry shook his head. “And who says I want Alex’s life? I don’t want another role in the spotlight, Bea!”
“You will be in the spotlight no matter what you do, Henry,” Bea shrugged. “The best you can do is make sure that it is on your terms.”
Henry shook his head. He had wrapped his arms around himself, feeling cold again.
“Dad would have wanted you to chase after this,” she breathed.
Henry looked at her sharply. “We will never know what Dad would have wanted,” he said coldly. “So don’t bring him up.”
Henry stared blankly at the tablet in front of him.
‘CNN: LEAKED SURVEILLANCE FOOTAGE SHOWS PRINCE HENRY AT DNC HOTEL.’
Henry couldn't stop staring at the pictures. They were blurry, but it was clear they were showing him and Alex getting into the elevator of the lobby at the Beekman.
He had his arm around Alex’s waist. It wasn’t even particularly damning, especially from afar. But it was enough for people to talk.
Philip was shouting as he paced the kitchen. Bea was snapping at him intermittently, defending Henry. Shaan was on the phone with Clarence House and Buckingham.
Henry’s phone buzzed. He picked it up to find a message from June.
She had sent him a photo from the lake house - one that they had taken for Pez and that had originally included Nora, but Nora had been cropped out. Like this, it just showed June kissing Henry’s cheek.
‘We could imply you were there because of me?’ she had written.
Henry rubbed his temple, a lump in his throat. He tipped on the photo and showed it to Philip, who stopped shouting midsentence to look at it.
“I was there for his sister June,” he lied tiredly. “She was on the same floor.”
Philip looked at him suspiciously before nodding once. “Fine, then,” he grumbled before turning around. “You will need to follow that up, though.”
Henry had been afraid of that.
“Why?” Bea hissed. “This is your chance to come clean, Henry!”
“June offered,” Henry shrugged. “And I’m not going to out Alex when we’re not even together anymore.”
He turned back to his phone to message June.
‘Thank you. And I’m so sorry about this.’
The reply came a minute later, and it made Henry feel unbearably cold once more.
‘I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for Alex.’
Lunch with June was tense and stilted. They smiled for the cameras - his Grandma had made him bring his own photographers, and wasn’t that sickening?! - and made small talk.
Henry was fidgeting. He felt a panic attack close to the surface, but he couldn’t give into it in public. Especially not with Alex’s sister around.
“You know,” June said, after a while. “I really don’t understand it. I tried, but I don’t.”
Henry looked up at her. Her gaze was sharp, as if she was trying to look through him. He quickly looked away.
“I’m not expecting you to,” he breathed.
She shook her head, taking a sip of her drink. “I know you love him,” she said, so softly that only Henry could hear her. “He told me what you said to him. So why would you make him suffer?”
Henry’s fingers tightened around his napkin. “It’s better for him that way,” Henry muttered.
“Who are you to decide that?” June challenged.
“I would only make him unhappy in the long run.”
“Sorry, but that’s bullshit,” June breathed. “He’s already unhappy. He’s fucking miserable because you left him.”
June’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it, then put on a smile. “Zahra,” she muttered. “Reminding us to smile.”
Henry took a shaky breath and tried to smile. He wasn’t sure he succeeded.
“I can see you’re miserable, too,” June said through her smile. “You look like you’re about to burst into tears any moment. These photos will be horrible.”
“Good thing everyone is already sold on our love story,” Henry said bitterly.
“I don’t understand why you’re doing this to yourself,” June continued. “Is this the palace brainwashing you?”
“You can’t possibly understand, June.”
“No, because you’re not making me.”
Henry didn’t answer. June sighed, her fake smile falling.
“Whatever you’re trying, it’s not going to work,” she insisted. “Alex isn’t as casual as he tries to pretend. Never has been. He is loyal to a fault. I always suspected that, if he falls, it will be for good.” She looked at him piercingly. “He will move on eventually, because he’s nothing but not stubborn. But you will always be that open wound in his heart that never quite healed. I know my brother, Henry. He’ll never stop loving you, not really.”
Henry looked away. A shiver ran through him.
“I need to leave,” he breathed.
He just barely made it to the car before the panic attack hit.
Things were quiet for a while after. The press and social media were happily running away with Henry’s apparent relationship with June, and leaving him in relative peace.
Henry didn’t feel peaceful, though. He felt empty. He felt hopeless. He felt apathetic.
Henry had spent years living without Alex. He had battled his depression since his father had fallen sick. He was used to this, he told himself. This wasn’t new. This wasn’t worse in any way.
But the truth was, it was. It was worse because now he knew how it felt to love and be loved in return. He knew how much light Alex’s laughter could bring into his dark days, and now, by comparison, the darkness seemed so much more disorienting. He knew how warm Alex felt when he was wrapped around him, and now Henry felt all the colder because of it.
It was worse because he knew, deep down, that he could have had that light and that warmth, probably forever, if he’d had the courage to fight for it.
But he wasn’t courageous. Not like Alex.
Maybe he really was a coward.
When Shaan told him that his emails with Alex had leaked, Henry’s first reaction was to laugh.
Because if he’d ever doubted that the universe had humour, now surely it had proven itself as a world-class comedian. Leaking irrefutable proof of their relationship to the world after they had been broken up for weeks? Now, that was just ironic.
Of course, Philip was there shortly - all the way from Anmer Hall, because whenever he perceived Henry to embarrass the family, he would be there in a heartbeat, but whenever a family member actually needed him, he was unavailable - shouting at Henry on top of his lungs. And Bea was there, too, shouting back.
Henry watched the scene as if it was happening to a stranger. As if he was standing beside himself.
After a while, the voices blurred together and just became white noise in his head. Henry’s gaze fell on his signet ring.
His mind went back to that night when he’d taken it off and had sent Alex away. The tears and the pain in his eyes. The rain dropping off his curls.
What had it all been for, he wondered?
He had convinced himself that they had no future together. That he was protecting Alex. Protecting himself, too, maybe.
But it all seemed so silly now, with their emails out there, for the world to see. And while that was a whole ‘nother thing to unpack - one he was not ready to touch yet, because he had bared himself in these mails and now, he was out there, without his armour, with his heart on the outside of his body for all the world to gape at - but his mind was pushing at that realisation, not ready to examine it right now.
No, what he was focused on was the thought that, no matter what they did, no matter how the Crown tried to gaslight the media, they would all know from hereon out that, at one point in history, Henry and Alex had been in love. And there was no going back from that.
So, what had all of it been for, he wondered? What had he been fighting for?
“The only proper thing,” he could hear Philip say, “is for him to issue a denial. We all know that -”
Henry looked up, his jaw set. “No,” he said.
Philip gaped at him. Bea sighed in relief.
“Finally,” she muttered.
“I’m not going to deny who I am any longer,” Henry continued. “Nor am I going to deny that I’m in love with Alex.”
“Have you completely lost your mind, Henry?!” Philip hissed.
“Actually,” Henry chuckled. “For the first time in weeks, I feel sane again.”
“Shaan, can you please try the White House again?” Henry pleaded.
“I told you, they won’t let me through to Ms Bankston,” Shaan shook his head. “They told me that, until the source of the leak is found, they’d like to keep communication to a bare minimum.”
“Then give me my phone back!” Henry called. “I need to talk to Alex!”
“You know I can’t do that,” Shaan shook his head. “All your digital devices have been confiscated until we have -”
“I don’t care about the source of the leak!” Henry snapped. “I care about my relationship!” He ran an unsteady hand through his hair. “Or what’s left of it, anyway,” he muttered. He looked at him again. “Can you get me on a plane?” he asked.
“That would get me fired quicker than smuggling the Crown jewels out of Her Majesty’s collection, Sir,” Shaan said plainly.
Henry groaned, turning to Bea. She caught his hand, squeezing it.
“You need to talk to Grandma,” she insisted.
“You think Grandma will let me go?!” Henry scoffed. “She’ll lock me into the Tower!”
“That would be difficult, with all the tourists,” Bea rolled her eyes.
“Oh, she’d find a way,” Henry rolled her eyes. “I’m sure there’s a secret dungeon or two that’s off-limits for tourists.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Hen.”
“Maybe I can just write her a note?” he suggested. “ ‘Hi, Grandma. Abdicating because of personal reasons. Bye.’”
“As much as I’d love to see her face, no,” Bea grinned. “You will have to do this in person.”
“And I will help you.”
They turned to find their mother in the doorway.
“Mum,” Bea blinked.
Henry just stared, unsure of what to make of their mother’s appearance. She had been so… absent whenever he'd needed her in recent years. How would he be able to rely on her now?
Catherine walked into the room and touched her son’s shoulder, her smile soft and apologetic.
“I’m so sorry I was… so out of it, darling,” she breathed. “I wished I had noticed. I wished I had cared enough to notice. But I am here now. And if you’ll let me, I’ll fight at your side.”
Henry looked at her, long and hard.
“I would have needed you years ago,” Henry hissed, feeling unreasonably angry. Part of him wondered if all of this would have gone differently, if he’d had his Mum at his side throughout this whole ordeal.
He might have never let Alex go.
“I know,” Catherine nodded, gulping. “I know, darling. I have a lot to make up for. Let me try and start now.”
Henry took a shaky breath. Bea squeezed his hand.
“You don’t have to do this alone, Henry,” she whispered.
Hesitantly, he nodded.
“I’m afraid what you’re suggesting is out of the question, Henry,” Queen Mary shook her head. “The public will never accept a prince of your… inclinations. I’m sorry, but to them, it’s perverse.”
“To them, or to you?” Catherine said hotly.
“I’m not asking, ” Henry stressed. “I’m informing you of my decision. This is how I plan to live my life. You can either accept it or not.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Philip scoffed. “What are you planning to do?! Abdicate?!” When Henry just raised his eyebrows, Philip turned to his grandmother. “Grandma, say something, please! This is absurd!”
“You are not abdicating, Henry,” she said firmly.
“I am gay,” he snapped. “Something you keep insisting someone in my position cannot be. And I’m in love with Alex, who I refuse to subject to this - this theatre you have going on here! So what do you expect me to do?”
“I expect you to not make rash decisions over an infatuation!” Philip hissed.
“I love him, Philip!” Henry snapped. “And even if I didn’t, it wouldn’t change the fact that I’ve been as gay as a Maypole since I came out of Mum!”
“Boys,” Catherine sighed, holding up her hand. “Philip, your brother has a right to live and love as he chooses, and -”
“No one says he can’t be happy , Mum! I just want him to think of the family!”
“And when has the family ever thought of him, huh, Pip?”
“Beatrice -”
“Enough!” Henry called, and all eyes fell on him. Usually, Henry would hate the attention.
But he’d had enough. He wasn’t going to sit back and let things happen to him anymore. He was going to make them happen. “Enough,” he repeated, in a more measured tone. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I will be going to Washington today -”
“You can’t -” Philip began but Henry spoke over him.
“And I will speak to Alex and his family personally. We will figure out a way to handle the public together. I will speak to him about how we are going to go forward from here, and no one else. And once we’ve come to a conclusion, I will inform you.”
“You can’t leave the palaces,” Queen Mary shook her head. Her eyes wandered to the shut curtains before coming back to him. “It’s a… security risk at this point.”
Henry frowned and glanced at the windows.
“What are you hiding from us?” Bea asked.
Henry got to his feet and walked over to the windows.
“Henry, no!” his grandmother called. “You can’t -”
But Henry had already pulled the curtains open. He was gaping at the scene outside. Thousands of people had gathered in front of the palace, waving rainbows, Union Jacks or Stars and Stripes and holding signs. ‘Free Henry!’ one read. ‘History, huh?’ another.
His mother came up behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Oh, Henry,” she breathed.
Henry blinked against the tears and turned to his grandmother.
“You’re not keeping me caged any longer,” he hissed.
And with that, he turned for the door, ignoring his grandmother’s and Philip’s protests.
“You really didn’t have to come with me,” Henry sighed, sending his mother and Bea an exasperated look.
“You might need help, darling,” Catherine shrugged. “After all, you’re storming a White House under lockdown. Three royals might be better than one.”
“And, if all fails, we will be there for moral support,” Bea said firmly.
Henry sighed and turned to Shaan, who was sitting with Bea and Catherine’s equerries, deep in discussion. He looked up, his eyes wild, and Henry almost felt sorry for him. He was sending the man on a bit of a wild goose chase.
“Is there any news from the White House?” he asked.
“They’ve gone silent,” he said. He fished out his tablet, pulled up a news side and handed it to Henry.
‘Washington Post: As details emerge about Alex Claremont-Diaz’s affair with Prince Henry, White House goes silent.’
Henry’s heart raced as he read. His eyes stuttered at a few lines like: ‘The First Family has always and continues to keep their personal lives separate from the political and dilpomatic dealings of the presidency,’ and ‘They ask for patience and understanding from the American people as they handle this very private matter.’
He handed the tablet back to Shaan. “So, they’re neither denying nor confirming?”
“Exactly,” Shaan agreed. “My personal sources say that they’re at a bit of an impasse. They don’t want to deny and cause Mr Claremont-Diaz any further pain, but they don’t want to confirm without your consent.”
Bea looked at him sharply. “Your personal sources?!” she hissed. “I thought no one was talking to you?!”
He pursed his lips. “Not officially, no.”
“But unofficially?”
He sighed, running his knuckles over his eyes. “Unofficially,” he muttered. “Ms Bankston has a car waiting for us at the airport and is expecting us at the White House.”
“Mr Shrivastava,” Catherine breathed. “I’ll personally see to it that you will get a raise once we get back to England.”
“Does Alex know I’m on my way?” Henry asked breathlessly.
“No,” Shaan said carefully. “Ms Bankston thought it best not to inform him.”
Henry nodded. “I just hope he won’t throw me out the minute he sees me,” he muttered.
“He loves you,” Bea said softly. “He’ll hear you out.”
“I hurt him, Bea,” Henry breathed. “I hurt him badly. I couldn’t blame him if he didn’t want to talk to me.”
“If he doesn’t, then you’ll try again, and again,” Catherine shrugged. “Show him that you’re not giving up. If he sees how serious you are about him, he’ll come around.”
Henry sighed. “I hope you’re right,” he whispered.
The look Zahra threw him when they turned up at the White House made Henry feel about two inches tall.
“Well,” she muttered. “I could have done without ever seeing your face again, Your Royal Highness.”
“Hello, Zahra,” he said uncertainly. “Um, I’m sorry? For all the inconvenience?”
“What exactly are you sorry for, pray tell?” she asked. “For sandbagging the President’s entire reelection campaign or for making the First Son mope around like he’s Jane Eyre incarnated?”
Henry flinched. “Both?”
She glowered. “I swear, you are worse than him,” she muttered, turning on her heels. “I’m glad I don’t have to babysit your sorry ass.”
Henry hurried after her.
“Is she always like this?” he heard his mother ask Shaan under her breath.
“Well, today is an especially bad day,” Shaan said evasively.
Meanwhile, Zahra was speaking into her phone. “Do you have Barracuda? I’m here with the Royal Offspring. Yes, bringing him to the Green Room now. Thank you, Amy.” She hung up. “I will bring you to speak with Alex first,” she informed Henry. “Meanwhile, your folks can have a little chat with Madam President about how we’d like to handle the press.”
She stopped, opening a door to their right. The interior design was very green.
“In you get,” she waved. “Amy will bring him in a moment.”
Henry nodded, stepping inside. He twitched when the door fell closed behind him with slightly too much force.
He wrung his hands as he studied the paintings on the walls, not really seeing them, trying to think of what in the name of God he would say to Alex. In all the rush of standing up to his family and getting here, he hadn’t really thought about this bit.
He didn’t get the time. The door opened and then, Alex was there, standing in the doorway.
He looked different somehow. Less vibrant. There were deep circles under his eyes and his curls were hanging down his cheeks, frizzy and unkempt.
He stared at Henry for a long moment, as if he couldn’t believe that the other boy was really here.
“Hi,” Henry breathed.
Alex blinked. He gulped and stepped into the room. Amy softly closed the door behind him.
“If you’re here because of the statement,” Alex said, his voice rough. “I wasn’t going to out you. I was going to keep quiet.”
“No,” Henry shook his head. “No, that’s not why I’m here, Alex.”
“Then what is it, and why couldn’t we have done this over the phone?!” Alex hissed.
“Well, for one, they wouldn’t put me through to you,” Henry said softly. “But also, I didn’t want to have this conversation on the phone. It felt too impersonal.”
Alex sighed, walking over to the fireplace, his finger running over the golden gilding of the vase on top of the mantel.
“Then go ahead and say what you came here to say,” Alex muttered. He laughed darkly. “And then you can leave.”
Henry recognised the words as an echo of his own when Alex had come to seek him out at Kensington Palace. It made his throat hurt.
“I made a mistake,” Henry said, at last.
“What?” Alex asked without looking at him. “In sleeping with me? I think we both know that, sweetheart.”
The pet name cut through him like a knife.
“No,” Henry shook his head. “In letting you go.”
Alex laughed, but again, there was no humour in it. Finally, he turned to face him again. His eyes were full of pain and incredulity.
“ You asked me to leave.”
“I know,” Henry shook his head. “But, Alex -”
“I flew across an ocean and stormed a fucking castle after you had walked out on me and ghosted me, and you told me to fucking leave. And now you come here - after our relationship has been leaked two times in the past weeks and you pretended to date my sister to cover it up - and tell me you made a mistake?!”
“I thought I was protecting you,” Henry breathed, realising how stupid it sounded the moment he said it.
“Me?!” Alex demanded. “Henry, you were only protecting yourself, and we both know it.”
“I - I thought I was doing the right thing,” Henry shook his head. He feverishly wished he had written a letter. He had always been so much better at writing than at speaking. “I can see now that I was wrong.”
“Well, congratulations on that bit if personal growth, baby!” Alex snapped. “What do you want, a fucking medal?!”
Henry gulped, trying to not let Alex’s words cut him too deep. He was lashing out to protect himself. He knew that. And he had brought that anger upon himself.
“I told my Grandmother I wasn’t going to let her cage me in anymore,” he explained to Alex. “I told her that I’m gay, and that I’m in love with you.”
Alex let out a choked laugh and started pacing.
“I fucking asked you to fight with me,” he reminded him. “No, I begged you. And you sent me away. You said you couldn’t do it.”
“I know,” Henry said. “I was so wrong, Alex. And I’m sorry.”
“You said our lives were incompatible,” Alex continued, whirling around to face Henry. “What the hell changed?”
“ I changed,” Henry breathed. “I realised you were right. I’m miserable without you, Alex. And I don’t want to be miserable anymore. I want to be happy.” He took a shaky breath, then added: “I want to be happy with you.”
“And what if you change your mind again tomorrow?” Alex shrugged. “Where does that leave me?”
“I’m not going to, Alex,” Henry shook his head. “I love you. There’s never been any doubt about how much I love you.”
“Well, you left last time, too, even though you said you loved me,” Alex reminded him. He blinked, and Henry realised that he was fighting back tears again.
He hated himself.
“You know, I remember everything about the day my Dad left,” Alex said softly. “The colour of his suitcases. The smell of the rental car. The heat. How his T-shirt clung to his back from the sweat when he hugged me goodbye.” He looked at Henry. “I swore to myself I wouldn’t ever get myself in that kind of position as an adult. That I wouldn’t give myself to someone who would leave.” He looked away. “I guess I lost sight of that for a while. But I remember now.”
“Alex,” Henry breathed. “It might have looked like I left, but I never really did. I still belonged to you. I never stopped loving you. And I never will.” He took a step towards Alex. “Please, let me prove to you that you can still trust me.”
Alex jerked back, and Henry felt it like a suckerpunch.
“Tell the press whatever you want,” Alex said, turning towards the door. “Confirm our relationship, deny it, but don’t do it to get me back - do it for yourself.” He opened the door and looked back at Henry. “We are over, Henry. There’s nothing you can say to change that.”
And with that, he left the room, leaving Henry to stare after him, feeling the cold envelop him once more.
Henry felt as if he was in a bit of a trance when he was let into the situation room where his mother, his sister, the President of the United States, her ex-husband, her new husband and Alex’s sister were pouring over news reports of his ex-relationship.
All eyes turned on him. “Henry,” Ellen Claremont nodded, her voice measured. “Thanks for joining us.”
“Where is Alex?” June asked sharply.
Henry just shook his head. She got to her feet without a word and pushed past him out of the room. Bea got up, too, wrapping an arm around him.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Don’t give up. He’ll come around.”
Henry wasn’t so sure, but giving up wasn’t an option, either, so he just nodded.
Ellen was rubbing her temple. “I had hoped to do this with both of you,” she muttered.
“If Alex needs space, he needs space,” Oscar pointed out, an edge to his voice. “You realise how much of an invasion of his privacy all of this is, don’t you?”
“Of course, I realise that, Oscar!” she snapped. “But I’m running a presidential campaign, and Alex was part of that presidential campaign, and now the press is out for blood, and we have to give them something!”
“We’re giving them nothing Alex hasn’t signed off on!” Oscar ground out.
“Which is why I wished he was here!” Ellen called.
“Um,” Henry said timidly. “If I may?” They looked up at him pointedly, clearly not pleased with his interruption. Henry remembered how Alex had called him on Christmas last year in the middle of the night and described his parents as “fucking tiger sharks fighting over a baby seal”. He could see it now.
Bea squeezed his shoulder and pushed him forward into a chair. Henry sat.
“Alex told me he didn’t particularly care whether or not the relationship was confirmed,” he said. “But I feel uncomfortable talking about it publicly without his input, and especially when we are not together anymore.”
“Right,” Ellen frowned. “That doesn’t exactly help us, Henry, I’m sorry.”
“I do plan on coming out publicly, though,” he continued.
She raised an eyebrow. “You got the green light from the palace for that?” she asked sceptically.
“No,” Henry shrugged, pushing out his chin stubbornly. “But I don’t care anymore. I’ll do it anyways.”
“He has my support,” Catherine chimed in. “My mother will have to think very carefully how she positions herself, if she doesn’t want to lose any more support for the Crown. I think she might have already lost a great deal of it with the leak of Henry’s emails and the way he spoke so plainly about her treatment of him.”
Ellen looked at her for a moment before nodding. “Right,” she said. “But what are you going to say about Alex?”
“I don’t have to say anything,” Henry shook his head. “I can just talk about myself, and I can maybe… hint?”
“That will be as good as a confirmation,” Oscar pointed out.
“But it won’t be,” Henry said. “I’ll make sure to phrase it in a way that leaves all the cards in Alex’s hands, I promise.”
Ellen sighed, leaning back in her seat. “So it comes down to Alex again,” she muttered.
“With all due respect,” Henry breathed. “Alex got taken a lot from him over the past weeks. He deserves to have the agenda over what’s happening from now on.”
“Isn’t that rich, coming from you?” Ellen asked, raising her eyebrow.
Henry flinched. “It’s because I’m one of the people who took that agenda away from him that I am saying it,” Henry insisted.
She hummed. “Fine,” she nodded. “We’ll keep our feet still and focus on the source of the leak. The ball is in your court, Your Highness.”
“No,” Henry corrected. “It’s in Alex’s.”
@princehenryuk
[photo of signet ring placed on napkin printed in rainbow colours. Underneath, an old edition of Le Monde ]
As many of you may have read, I have been forced to lie about who I really am in public for a long time. I apologise to everyone who felt hurt reading my private words this week.
The truth is, though, they were never meant for your eyes. They were shared in trust and privacy, and their publication was a violation of my rights, and of everyone’s involved in this private conversation, directly or indirectly. I want you to remember that when you dissect our innermost thoughts. Something was taken from us, and if you feel any shred of empathy for what that means, you will grant us the privacy we deserve from now on.
The truth is, also, that I wished I could have shared myself with you on my own terms. But that freedom was never given to me and was effectively taken from me.
I will try to reclaim it henceforth.
I am a Prince of England, and I am gay. I am a Prince of England, and I suffer from clinical depression.
I’m not sure where my place in the Royal Family will be going forward, but I know I want to live truthfully. I don’t want to hide myself away any longer - a boy with his heart on the outside of his chest deserves a place in this world as much as anyone else. And I don’t care any longer what anyone will say about it.
To make amends for my indiscretions, I will focus my charitable effort henceforth on disenfranchised queer youth. More news will follow shortly on @princestrust
Henry’s post got sixty-five million likes in twenty-four hours. The support was overwhelming.
So were the questions about Alex.
Technically, nobody but Alex knew what the Le Monde in the photo meant. But the internet was a scary place. There had been photos of them together in Paris, after all. And just from the articles visible in the picture, they were able to deduct the date of the newspaper and understand that it matched with the date they were seen in Paris together.
‘COUPLE GOALS: Prince Henry hinting at relationship with Alex Claremont-Diaz in coming out post!’
‘After Prince Henry’s public coming out, why does the White House remain silent?’
“Should I have left the Le Monde out?” Henry sighed, looking at Bea. “Did I pressure him?”
“No,” Bea said sternly. “You are fighting for him in the most respectful way possible. You even told the press to back off him while not even mentioning his name. You did good, Henry.”
Henry sighed. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”
She reached out to squeeze his hand. “Give it time,” she insisted. “And don’t let up.”
So that’s what Henry did. He tried to keep showing Alex in little, meaningful ways that he cared about him. That he still loved him. That he was invested in a future with him.
First, he had Pez sign over the youth shelters to him and took off to New York to start working on the the Brooklyn one. It had the advantage that it put him in the same country with Alex, at least.
He started breaking with tradition and publicly liking and forwarding Ellen Claremont’s campaign posts on instagram. He got a very angry call about that from Philip, but told him to fuck off.
“It’s not even the UK, Philip,” Henry rolled his eyes. “Who cares if I’m political abroad?”
“Our government will care, if Ellen Claremont loses and you backed up the wrong horse!”
“If Ellen Claremont loses, the world has more problems than my animosity with the new president. Like that dickhead having control over the nuclear codes.”
“Henry!”
“Don’t you get tired of it, Philip?!” Henry snapped. “We’re smiling and waving, but what good do we really do? I want to use my voice.”
“This is not how we use our voices, Henry! Not in this family.”
“Well, maybe, it’s really time I stepped down, then.”
“Henr-”
But Henry had already hung up. He sent a message off to his mother, checking with her how to go about an abdication.
He was done. He didn’t need the Crown. He had his own plans now.
‘Prince Henry announces plans to abdicate towards the end of the year!’
‘Prince Henry’s Abdication Scandal: How deep is the drift between the Queen and her grandson really?’
‘Did Prince Henry abdicate for the FSOTUS?’
Henry sighed, putting his phone away and turning to Shaan, who was on his tablet and phone simultaneously, fielding correspondence.
“You know,” Henry said quietly. “Technically, you’re employed by the palace. I wouldn’t mind if you asked them to reassign you prematurely.”
Shaan looked up at him, deeply unimpressed. “What makes you think I want to work for anyone else in your family, Sir?” he asked.
Henry grinned. “Well, I could poach you, if you don’t fancy working for the Crown anymore.”
Shaan smiled. “I would suggest for your comfort that you did,” he said smoothly, turning back to his tablet. “Because frankly, you’d be lost without me, Sir.”
Henry grinned. “I assume you’re right, Shaan. Then I’ll set up a new contract for you.”
Shaan frowned at his phone.
“What is it?” Henry asked.
“Message from Ms Bankston,” he said. “She asks us to come to the White House as soon as possible.”
Henry blinked. “That sounds urgent.”
Shaan nodded. “Indeed. Let’s waste no time.”
When they finally arrived at the White House a couple of hours later, Zahra immediately herded them into the Oval Office - which made Henry pause. He’d never been to the Oval Office before. This couldn’t be good.
The room was packed: Ellen and Nora were bent over a couple of papers on the table. Oscar was on the phone, talking in quick, exasperated Spanish. Alex and June were sitting on an armchair, Alex’s eyes far away, June’s hands clinging to his arm.
Alex looked up for a moment when Henry entered, then quickly looked away.
“Hello,” Henry said unsurely. “What happened?”
“We found the leak,” Ellen said. “Or better, Nora found it.”
Henry looked at Nora, surprised.
“You were set up,” Nora explained, her eyes wide and manic. “Richards had you followed and your emails hacked.”
Henry stared at her, uncomprehending. Shaan guided him to an armchair and made him sit.
“So… it was a political plot?” Henry asked slowly.
“It was a disgusting violation of privacy that had nothing to do with politics,” Ellen insisted. “And we’re going to take him down for it.”
Henry nodded. He looked over at Alex. Alex was still staring into space.
“How did you find out?” Henry asked.
“Rafael Luna,” June said softly. “He sent the emails to Nora anonymously and confirmed their authenticity to us earlier. Dad’s on the phone with him just now.”
Henry nodded. “So, what now?”
“Now you’re going to find yourself in the middle of a dirty as fuck political battle, mijo,” Oscar said, walking past him and squeezing his shoulder. “So we thought we’d warn you.”
Henry nodded. He didn’t know what else to do.
“Are you okay?” Henry asked softly, watching Alex lean against the railing of the White House balcony, watching the night sky.
“Oh, yes, I’m fantastic,” Alex said flatly. “My private emails were used as a means to decimate my mother’s campaign. I’m brilliant.”
Henry hesitantly moved to stand next to him. Alex didn’t look at him.
“At least you know now that it wasn’t your fault,” Henry said softly. “You don’t have to blame yourself.”
“Who said I was blaming myself?!” Alex snapped.
Henry looked at him for a long moment. “I know you, Alex,” he breathed. “You feel responsible for everything.”
Alex glanced at him before looking away again.
“You don’t have to be here anymore,” he muttered. “You can go back to New York.”
“I wanted to check on you.”
“Well, you did.”
Henry sighed, biting his lip. “I’m trying, Alex,” he breathed. “I know I made a mistake, but I’m really trying to show you how much I still care about you. How much I will always care about you.”
“And I told you that that was pointless. I’m really glad you’re like, living your truth and shit now. Good for you. But that doesn’t change anything between us.”
“Why not?” Henry prodded. “The Crown won’t be a problem any longer, Alex. I’m free to do whatever I want. And I want to be with you.”
“You just won’t give it a rest, will you?!” Alex hissed.
“No,” Henry said softly. “Not unless you tell me plainly that you don’t love me anymore.”
Alex glowered at him.
“I let you go when you fought for me,” Henry breathed. “And that is the biggest mistake I have ever made. I’m not going to give up on us again, not if there is any hope left for me to fix what I have broken.”
Alex just kept looking at him, not saying anything. Henry hated how small and fragile he looked; so unlike the big, overwhelming personality he’d grown accustomed to.
He wanted to hold him so bad.
But before he could give into the urge and ruin anything else between them, June appeared on the balcony.
“Hey,” she said softly. “I was looking for you.”
Alex looked up at her. “I needed some air,” he said.
“Mum is ordering pizza,” she said. She looked at Henry. “You are invited to stay.”
“Thank you,” Henry smiled. “But I think I overstayed my welcome.”
Alex glanced at him before looking away.
“You know how to reach me if you want to,” Henry said softly. “And Zahra has my new address in New York if you want to find me.”
“And why would I do that?” Alex shrugged.
“Just in case,” Henry said. “I’ll see you around. Take care of yourself, Alex.”
And then, he turned and walked back inside.
“I don’t know if what you’re doing is pointless or not.”
Henry looked around to see that June had followed him. She was frowning at him.
“Maybe it is,” Henry allowed. “But if so, I guess it’s only fair that it’s my turn to get my heart broken.”
She studied his face before shaking her head. “I really wished you could have fought for him sooner,” she breathed. “It would have made everything so much easier.”
“You and me both,” Henry shrugged. “But I wasn’t in the right mental space then. Now, I am.”
She pursed her lips. “You make it hard not to root for you,” she muttered, glowering at him. “I want to hate you for hurting him. And I do, a bit. But I also sort of understand. And I can see you really love him, and that he loves so, too… And I just want to see him smile again.” She sighed. “He was happy with you.”
Henry nodded. “I know,” he said. “And I hope I can make him happy again. If he lets me.”
Henry tried to find a balance: Keeping a respectful distance from Alex to not put unnecessary pressure on him while at the same time reminding him that he was thinking about him and loved him.
He occasionally messaged Alex randomly, letting him know that he was thinking of him, the way he had when they had started out their relationship: Through episodical texts and pictures. Alex never answered, but he also didn’t block his number, so he continued.
He kept signal-boosting Ellen’s campaign and promoting problematic think-pieces about Richard’s smear-campaign. Once, a reporter asked him if he had any ambitions as a political influencer, at which he burst out laughing.
It was more uncomfortable when the press pried into his and Alex’s relationship, though. He avoided most questions, refusing to talk about his private life. That only brought forward speculations about whether or not Alex and Henry had broken up, though.
Well, it wasn’t that the rumors were wrong. But Henry hated the attention it brought back to Alex.
He spent election night in front of the TV with Pez and Shaan, cursing and being confused by the American voting system. When Ellen won Texas and the presidency, though, they cheered and toasted, and Henry’s eyes were glued to Alex on the screen as the family came out for Ellen’s acceptance speech.
If not happy, he looked relieved, at least.
‘ @princehenryuk
[photo of the first family on stage in Austin earlier that night]
4 more years!! Congrats, Claremont-Diaz family!!’
Pez looked over his shoulder as he posted his congratulatory message.
“If you make your pining any more obvious, mate, aliens will be able to see it from another galaxy,” he noted casually.
Henry glared at him.
“Just saying,” Pez shrugged. “I think even the last person on the internet understood that you fucked up and are trying to grovel. It’s pretty obvious, with your constant hints about him and his complete radio silence.”
Henry sighed and leaned back. “Do you think I should give up?” he whispered.
Pez looked at him sadly. “Come to their new year shindig with me as my plus-one,” he suggested. “Give it one last shot. And if that doesn’t work, maybe you should give him some space… to not cross into stalkery ex territory. Which, let’s be real, you’re toeing the line here, my boy.”
Henry groaned, running a hand across his face. He nodded reluctantly.
“All right,” he said. “New Year’s. And I’ll tune it down until then.”
Pez nodded, patting his shoulder. “Good choice. Now, let’s get drunk.”
Henry stuck to his words. No more random texts. No more hints on his social media. No stalkerish tendencies whatsoever. Instead, he focused all his energy into the abdication process, which was predictably annoying and exhausting. When it was over and done, though, he felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulder.
He posted a photo toasting with his mother and his sister and a caption with the Hamilton quote ‘Raise a glass to freedom’. Philip was apopleptic. It went immediately viral.
(And if people chose to interpret the Hamilton reference as a wink to Alex, it was hardly his fault.)
When New Year’s Eve came, he felt ready to jump out of his skin.
“What if he tells me to fuck off?” he asked Pez on the way to the White House.
“Then you fought well,” Pez elbowed him. “But you’ll back off gracefully.”
Henry sighed but nodded. The car was warm, he knew, but he felt unreasonably cold.
The White House Trio’s New Year’s Party was just as extravagant as it had been the year before. Pez immediately found June and Nora in the crowd, and they welcomed him with hugs and kisses.
Henry circled the room for Alex, but didn’t find him. Eventually, he settled at the bar, just sipping some champagne and watching the room.
Alex didn’t turn up.
When the loud music started to hurt Henry’s head, he fled out into the garden. His feet carried him back to the Linden tree - their Linden tree. The one where everything had started last year.
There was no snow this year. It had been a strangely mild December. The grass was yellow and sad-looking, reflecting Henry’s mood.
He sighed, his eyes fixing on the tree as he approached it. He blinked when he found someone sitting under it, a bottle of Tequila in his hand, his head resting against the tree trunk, eyes closed.
Henry stood, staring at Alex. Alex must have sensed the gaze because he opened his eyes, blinking up at him.
“Oh, fuck,” he muttered. “Of course, it’s you.” He took another swig from the bottle.
He looked terrible, Henry noted. As if he hadn’t slept properly in days, if not weeks. Henry approached him carefully.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly. “Do you need me to call someone?”
“I came here to be alone,” Alex said flatly. His voice was lilting slightly. “Isn’t that obvious?!”
Henry blinked. “I guess.”
Alex sighed, closing his eyes again. “Figures you’d find me. I can never get away from you, no matter how hard I try.”
Henry hesitated before sitting down on the grass, a good few feet of space between them.
“I’m sorry about that,” Henry said softly.
“No, you’re not,” Alex chuckled. “That’s your plan. You don’t want me to forget.”
Henry tilted his head, frowning. “I’ve left you alone for weeks, Alex,” he pointed out. “And if that’s really what you want, I will stay away. I won’t bother you any more.”
Alex didn’t stay anything for a long moment.
“Alex?” Henry prodded.
“You’re still there though,” he breathed, and he sounded so vulnerable that it made Henry’s chest hurt. “Even if you’re not texting or not coming after me, you’re here. You’re under this tree or in my bed or in the Red Room or in my fucking dreams.” Alex let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, I’ve had too much to drink.”
Henry nodded. “Let me bring you up to your room? I swear I’ll just make sure you get safely to bed. I’m worried.”
“As if you’d take advantage,” Alex scoffed. “You’re too kind-hearted for that.”
“Glad to know you still trust me that much,” Henry smiled. He got to his feet and reached out a hand to help Alex up. “Come on.”
Alex looked at Henry’s hand for a few seconds before finally taking it and letting himself be pulled up. He stumbled into Henry on the way back into the house, all coordination gone, and Henry allowed himself to wrap an arm around him and lead him inside and up the stairs.
He wasn’t prepared for the sight and the smell of Alex’s room. It was messy and familiar and made him stagger for a moment. But he pushed on, clearing the clothes Alex had stacked on the bed onto a chair to help him sit down.
He looked at him. “Can you get changed on your own? Because otherwise I will get June or Nora.”
Alex was looking at his hands, his eyes downcast.
“Alex?” Henry asked. “Are you going to be sick?”
“Don’t leave,” he whispered.
Henry froze. When Alex looked up, there were tears in his eyes.
“Don’t leave,” he repeated. “Please.”
“I - I don’t think this is a good idea, Alex,” Henry shook his head, his heart racing. “You’re drunk, and in no condition to consent to anything.”
“I miss you,” Alex breathed, his voice raspy. “And I’m so tired of missing you. I just want it to stop.”
“Alex -”
“Please,” he insisted, and a tear rolled down his face, pulverising all of Henry’s resistance. “Just stay. You don’t even need to touch me, just… don’t leave.”
Henry sighed, his shoulder slumping. “Fine,” he gave in. “Okay. But you need to change on your own, because I’m not undressing you. We’re not going there.”
Alex nodded, rubbing at his face to get rid of the tears. Henry sighed and walked to Alex’s open cupboard, drawing out a comfortable looking T-shirt and shorts.
“There,” he said, pushing it at Alex,” now off to the bathroom with you.”
Alex nodded, getting to his feet unsteadily. Henry watched carefully, but he made it to the bathroom without stumbling.
Henry used the time to clean up the couch, making sure there was some sleeping space for him. He found a woollen throw-blanket. It would have to do, he decided.
There was a loud bump from the bathroom. Henry froze. “You okay there?” he called.
“Yes,” Alex’s voice came through the door. “Just lost my footing for a moment.”
Henry sighed. He checked his phone. There was a message from Pez.
‘Where are you?’
He quickly replied: ‘Found Alex. He’s extremely drunk. Brought him up to his room. Staying to make sure he’s ok.’
‘Shit, you want me to send June and Nora up?’
Henry hesitated. It would be the responsible thing to do, wouldn’t it? But something about this seemed important. Like he would lose hold of Alex again if he left now.
‘He asked me to stay?’
‘Ohhhh. Oh. Got it. But don’t do anything stupid.’
‘I won’t, I promise. I’m just watching over him.’
‘Good lad.’
He was just pocketing his phone again and shrugging out of his suit jacket when Alex came out of the bathroom. His hair looked wild and he was still unsteady, but at least he was out of his suit and he had stopped crying. He blinked at Henry in confusion.
“What are you doing?” he frowned.
Henry looked at him in confusion as he hung his suit jacket over the back of the couch. “Finding a place to sleep?” he said.
“The bed is big enough,” Alex pointed out.
“Yeah, no,” Henry shook his head forcefully. “Not happening.”
Alex looked unsure now. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s not like anything will happen.”
“That’s not the point,” Henry argued. “Do we have to talk about consent again?”
“I’m not that drunk.”
“Yes, you are, Alex.” Or I wouldn’t be allowed near you, was what he didn’t say.
Alex looked at him unhappily. “You can sleep above the covers?” he tried.
“Alex, no!”
“Why not?!”
“Because you’re going to hate me even more in the morning if I agree, and I’m not going to risk that!” Henry burst out.
“I don’t hate you now, and I’m not going to,” Alex breathed.
Henry looked at him, shaking his head. “See, this is why I shouldn’t be here,” he breathed. “You don’t want to tell me these things, not like this.”
“Right now, I really don’t care,” Alex groaned. “I care about the fact that I haven’t slept properly since I came back from England and I have a fucking headache the size of this entire country and I am so tired of being angry at you and missing you and I just want you near me and I want to sleep. ” He looked at Henry helplessly. “So please, get into that fucking bed with me. I swear I won’t hate you for it in the morning.”
Henry looked at him, long and hard. Finally, he nodded. Alex let out a sigh of relief and stumbled towards the bed. Henry followed him reluctantly
He stayed strictly above the covers, as Alex had suggested, but Alex moved close enough to him that it almost didn’t matter. He pressed his face against Henry’s clothed chest, breathing in his scent.
“Fuck, I missed you,” he murmured.
Henry reached out to stroke back his hair before he could talk himself out of it. Alex leaned into the touch like a cat.
“I missed you, too,” Henry whispered. “So much.”
Soon, Alex’s breathing evened out and Henry could tell he was asleep. He stayed awake all night, watching Alex. When the fireworks went off outside, Alex didn’t even stir.
“Happy New Year, love,” Henry whispered into the silence.
Henry left before Alex could wake. He left a note on his pillow, apologising in case he’d overstepped last night and hoping that Alex felt better. If he wanted to talk to Henry, he knew how to reach him.
And then, he forced himself to wait. If it had been the alcohol talking, Alex would probably want him to bloody stay away. So there was no guarantee he would call.
Maybe this was it.
All throughout New Year’s Day, his phone stayed silent, and Henry slowly resigned himself to a life without Alex in it.
He had tried. He had fought. But there was only so much he could do, right? Pez was right. He had to let him go eventually.
He spent January 2nd in the shelter, trying to distract himself with work. He was in for a surprise, though, when he arrived back at his brownstone and found Alex waiting in the living room.
“I thought it wise to let him in,” Shaan informed him with a smile. “We know how well he can storm a house.”
Henry nodded absentmindedly, his eyes fixed on Alex, who was sitting on his couch, looking very much like he wasn’t quite sure how he had got there. Shaan grinned and let himself out.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” Henry blinked.
“Am I interrupting anything?” Alex asked.
“Never,” Henry shook his head, laughing. He stepped closer hesitantly. “What are you doing here?”
Alex looked at him searchingly. “You know,” he breathed, looking so lost that it made Henry ache with it.
“If this is about New Year’s, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have -”
“Don’t apologise,” Alex shook his head, getting up and crossing the distance between them. “Please, don’t apologise.”
And then, Alex was in his arms, and muscle memory took over. He closed his eyes and clung to him, his heart racing, and Alex clung back, his face pressed into Henry’s throat, a little noise escaping him. It sounded like a sob.
“I missed you,” Alex breathed, his voice broken. “I missed you so fucking much, sweetheart.”
“I missed you, too,” Henry breathed, somehow, impossibly, holding him closer. “God, I’m so sorry! About everything!”
“I’m sorry, too,” Alex muttered.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Alex!”
“Yes, I do. I was so - so stuck in my head! In the end, I wasn’t even sure what I was angry about anymore. I think I was just scared of making myself vulnerable again.”
“And that’s perfectly understandable. I lost your trust when I hurt you.”
“But I do trust you,” Alex shook his head, pulling away to look at him. His eyes were red and watery but they were clear. “I know you, baby. I know you did what you did because you were scared. But you’ve been so brave these past few months. Everything you did… I’m so proud of you, do you know that?”
Henry blinked against the tears welling up in his own eyes. He’d wanted to hear those words from Alex so badly. “Thank you,” he breathed. He cupped Alex’s cheeks. “You know I’ll never leave you again, right?” he stressed. “I’m yours, darling. Forever, if you want me.”
Alex closed his eyes and turned to kiss his palm. “I’m gonna hold you to that,” he breathed.
And then, Alex wrapped his arms around Henry’s waist and leaned in to kiss him, and Henry…
For the first time since Alex had left his room at Kensington Palace, Henry felt properly warm again.