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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    Henry knows that he’s the one who said “casual”, and it had been a reminder to himself that that was all it could ever be between him and Alex.

    So, telling Alex that they should “make love” is probably a mistake in syntax bigger than he could safely afford. But they’re in Paris and Henry is feeling terribly, terribly maudlin.

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    29 Sep 2024

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    He hasn’t heard from him in almost a year.

    Hesitant, he says, “Henry?”

    There’s a sniffle. “Alex.”

    Alex’s shoulders go taut with tension; he may not have heard from him in a year and had only seen him in tabloids and the occasional interview or ribbon cutting on a shitty stream that Alex had no business being on, but he hasn’t forgotten Henry’s tells. He hasn’t forgotten the edge to his voice on his dark days; the way it clings to the very molecules of air surrounding him, as if it wishes to seep into every ounce of air he dares breathe in.

    Alex swallows, sets his highlighter down. “Henry,” he says carefully, “what’s going on?”

    -

    Or, a year after Henry tells Alex to leave, he does something unthinkable.

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    24 Mar 2024

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    An unofficial sequel to the softness that is audri’s “like father.” You really need to have read it for this to make sense.

     

    Henry remembers things that his grief had tucked away in his brain for when he is ready to remember.

    …and Alex finds out that Henry tried to leave.

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    19 Feb 2024

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    Objectively, I am aware that you – a stranger – cannot tell me my own sexuality any better than I can, however... Can you, please? Tell me? It’s 4am and I have been thinking about this for hours, and I can’t sleep.

    Warmest regards,
    ACD

    ***

    It’s four in the morning, and Alex Claremont-Diaz has managed to follow a research spiral straight down into a personal crisis. It isn’t the first time.

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    03 Feb 2024

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    It’s over. It’s really over, and Henry doesn’t even think he’s worth a break-up text. Yet here Alex is sobbing on his bedroom floor, his face buried in a silk kimono with HOE DAMERON embroidered across the back.

    What was it his dad had said to him in Texas, right before everything went to shit?

    Sometimes you just jump and hope it’s not a cliff.

    Well. Alex had jumped. He’d thrown himself head-first over the precipice, and discovered that it was, in fact, a cliff. A fucking big cliff, with big fucking rocks at the bottom.
    ---
    Alex never finds Henry's note; he never goes to Kensington. Mutual heartbreak and pining ensues.

    Another 'what-if they-never-got back-together-after-Texas- fic.

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    16 Jan 2024