History, huh?

Seven

The hour of tests made Alex feel suffocated and anxious. He knew, logically, that the doctors were just doing their jobs, but he couldn't help but get awfully angry about the whole situation. All he wanted was a moment of fucking peace with his family and Henry, but the doctors were crowding him and no one had taken that stupid tube out of his throat. Since he couldn't speak, he had to spend an hour listening to everything the doctors said about his condition and where things would go from here. Well, he tried to listen, anyway, but he was too distracted by Henry's blue eyes wide as he took down important information and the way his mom's hand held tightly onto his own. When the doctors cleared out, everyone gave him hugs and told him how happy they were that he was finally awake again, but no one explained what had happened or how long he had been unconscious.

When his family felt sufficiently satisfied with his state, they went off to find the doctors to talk more in depth about what his recovery would look like––to get "the literature" of it all. Which left him and Henry alone.

Henry, who looked like he hadn't really slept in days. Henry with his hair mussed and his eyes red from old tears. Alex wanted the breathing tube out so he could tell Henry how much he loved him, but it was still there. 

"I'm sorry," Henry said, sitting down on the chair next to Alex's bed. Henry took Alex's hand in his own, rubbing his thumb across the back of Alex's hand. It brought Alex a bit of relief, but not much.

Alex shook his head and looked around trying to find a pad of paper or something, but he didn't see one. With his free hand, he mimed writing. Henry looked at him with his head tilted and his eyebrow cocked as he tried to discern what Alex meant.

"Oh. Oh! Yes, of course. Paper." He yanked open his messenger bag, keeping one hand firmly in Alex's grasp, and pulled out a journal and a pen, handing them over to Alex. Unfortunately, Alex needed two hands for the job––one to hold the book open and one to write––so he guided Henry's hand to rest on his leg while he managed to write. His fingers were sore and shaky from being unused, but he managed to put some words down in a handwriting that made him feel like he was a five year old learning how to string letters together for the first time.

First of all, I love you. So fucking much.

He showed Henry the words and Henry smiled softly at him, that private smile that Alex knew was reserved for him and him alone. He took the journal back and wrote again.

What happened? I know I was shot (which I don't regret, by the way, so stop beating yourself up about it like I know you are) but what happened after? Don't remember. How long was I asleep?

He showed the journal to Henry who's eyes quickly scanned over his messy words.

"Yes, right. So, you jumped in front of me and took the shot," Henry explained, obviously choosing his words carefully, "and I'm very, very cross with you for that."

Alex tried to laugh, but he couldn't. He tried to laugh with his eyes instead. Based on Henry's smile, he got the message.

"But I also love you very, very much, so I'm going to try and work past it. Cash got you here in the nick of time. I was terrified that we were going to be too late or that you had lost too much blood. I––I was so scared, Alex. You wanted to make sure I was safe before you let anyone fuss over you, which was really quite idiotic considering the location of the bullet and all, so when I saw the blood, I panicked. I had to...I had to keep pressure on the wound on the way here. You passed out almost immediately after I found the wound, and I just––" he took a sharp breath. Alex could see the tears forming in his eyes. "I thought we were going to lose you."

Alex found his hand again and gave it a squeeze before reaching for the journal and pen again.

You could never lose me. Even if I had...you would never lose me. 

He showed Henry the paper. Henry laughed a watery, broken laugh.

"Anyway, they got you into surgery immediately. The bullet was," he pinched his fingers together, leaving about half an inch of space between them, "this close to your heart. You've been asleep for eight days. I've––we've all––been here in the hospital practically the whole time. The doctors didn't know if you would wake up."

Alex frantically sought out the pen and paper again.

You are the reason I'm okay.

Henry laughed at him. "I'm not. None of us could do anything. We just had to wait. It was dreadful."

Alex shook his head.

You were sad. You were having nightmares.

Henry raised an eyebrow at him. "I––how did you know?"

I could hear things. Bits and pieces. They were far away. You were always the closest, though. I could hear you cry. I didn't want you to be sad. Don't be sad anymore. I'm okay. We're okay. It's going to be okay.

Henry kissed his forehead and nodded. "I'm not sad anymore. I'm just––I got your letter."

For a moment, Alex had no idea what Henry was talking about. Henry pulled something out of his pocket and Alex recognized it almost immediately. The letter he had written, the one he had given to June to hold on to, in case something like this ever happened to him. 

"I didn't show it to anyone," Henry told him. "I read it so much that I think I've gone and memorized it at this point. And, Alex, you and I both know I'm not great at just...saying things like you are, but I need you to know how much I love you." He took a deep breath. "Do you remember when you stormed Kensington in the rain and stood outside my window shouting obscenities that made my forebears roll over in their graves?"

Alex nodded.

"Well, the next morning when I came back to you, you told me that your mum had asked if this, if we, were forever. If you were a thousand  percent sure about it. You told me that you were and I––I laughed. Honestly, despite your instructions, I did let it go to my head. I thought to myself––I must certainly, without a doubt, be the luckiest person alive. Despite it all, despite me and my countless flaws, you told me you loved me. That you were a thousand bloody percent sure about me. It was more than I ever could have hoped for. I was granted access to more of you than I had even dared to dream about."

The urge to kiss Henry was so strong that Alex thought he might go into cardiac arrest soon if he couldn't.

"Well, I am, too, Alex. I'm a thousand percent sure that I want to spend my life with you. I don't know what kind of life I can promise you, but if you'll let me, I'd like to give it all to you. And this isn't a proposal, but it's a promise that, if and when the time comes, I am a thousand percent sure that I'll say yes."