Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The concept of soulmates is one that has lingered in the forefront of Henry’s mind since he first understood what that meant. In his mind, his soulmate is an inevitability, not a potential. His grandparents had found each other, his parents had found each other, even his brother had found his own.

And if anyone is able to tolerate Philip for an eternity then, well, the system must be somewhat sound in theory.

His grandfather had passed when Henry was barely able to walk, his own father before he had finished Uni and he had seen the long lasting effects. He had grown up with a cold and callous grandmother, had watched his own mother spiral into a shell of her former self while her children were left to pick up the pieces.

Yet, a part of him still yearns, still hopes that maybe it could be different for him.

The final straw had been meeting Martha. It was nothing to do with her - she was lovely, albeit a bit plain and lifeless, but what more could he have expected from Philip’s other half?

He had brandished his soulmark to Henry one morning, on his right shoulder that read An Alright Fellow, the most recent thing Martha had said about him and it had taken every ounce of restraint Henry possessed to not laugh at him.

The last time he had seen his mother before he moved to the states, she had been wearing her soul patch - a small white bandage designed to cover up soul marks. They were mostly used for those who wanted nothing to do with their soulmates, people that chose to ‘rebel’ against the system.

Other times, they were for widows - like Catherine. Even with it covered, they all knew what lay beneath it, the last thing Arthur Fox had ever said about his beloved wife - Love of My Life.

Henry’s had remained entirely blank, how he fears it may stay for the rest of his life.

A small part of him wondered if moving to the states was the wrong decision, that he would be taking himself further away from his soulmate.

But after yet another breakfast between himself, his grandmother, Philip and Martha, he decided it was a risk he was very much willing to take. There were only so many times he could witness his brother taking a bite into plain, dry toast.

His sister Bea had been entirely on board, sending her love through dozens of late night facetime calls from wherever she had been jetting off to next on her tour through Asia.

And that had been that, the last time he had been to England was almost five years ago.

New York is much more than he had been expecting when he allowed Pez to drag him overseas.

It’s loud and it’s vibrant and often just on the right side of too much that he finds himself enjoying it. He and Pez share their brownstone in Brooklyn and he likes his life. He’s happy.

Even though there are no signs of a soulmark anywhere on his body.

Soulmarks appear once you have made physical contact with your soulmate. For his parents, it was a full on collision in the middle of a campus. For Philip, he had shaken Martha’s hand.

It has made society very touchy feely, something Henry loathes.

His only consolation is the fact that Pez’s also stays blank throughout their years together.

He’s dated, he’s ‘fooled around’ but it all seems to end in more pain for him, he gave up entirely when Hunter cheated on him - with his soulmate.

That’s the worst part of the whole system, he thinks, that you can get away with bloody murder, be an absolute asshole but it’s alright because it’s for your soulmate.

Wherever his soulmate is - he’s in no rush.

💒🍰

“You’re positive that the buttercream is the right choice? Not that I’m doubting you but…” Ms Garrison’s face scrunches up slightly as she absolutely doubts him.

Henry attempts to take it in stride, giving her a thin smile and nodding his head, “With what you’re looking for, it provides the best consistency.” Which he has told her three times already.

He understands the scepticism; he works out of the tiniest bakery on this side of the city and he’s currently covered in at least three different types of fondant. But he gets results, and she bloody well knows this, or else she wouldn’t be standing in his shop insulting his design choices.

Originally, he had been working out of the brownstone, before he quickly realised that crazy brides having his home address was not sustainable.

Ms Garrison’s face contorts into almost a pained look as she tilts her head at him, as though he’s being unreasonable, “Why not red velvet?”

It takes every ounce of British politeness he has in him to not sigh very loudly at her. Instead, he squares his shoulders and decides to cut his losses.

“We can do red velvet.”

“See!” She says, as though she’s caught him in a lie, “I knew you would see it my way. Buttercream is terribly gauche, don’t you think?”

“Quite.” He says through gritted teeth, “Now, in terms of the deposit…”

By the time she leaves, smug smile on her face while Henry is trying to imagine how six tiers of red velvet will stand under pressure, he’s exhausted,

It’s pre-wedding season - or as Pez affectionately calls it Premageddon. He’s well used to it by now, but even still he can feel the exhaustion wearing away at him and he hasn’t even had to make the cakes yet.

Being a baker - with a speciality in wedding cakes - was not what he had expected to be doing when he arrived in New York. But his writer's block had hit an all time high and he grew cooped up within the four walls of the brownstone while Pez was out working at his shelters, making a difference.

It had started as a joke, watching an episode of Bake Off and drunkenly saying I could do that. And it became an obsession, cookbooks ordered with Pez’s next day delivery, kitchen counters splattered in flour and dozens upon dozens of misshapen creations until he realised maybe I can do it.

Now, while he’s exhausted, overworked and completely unsociable, he still can’t bring himself to regret it.

“Babes!”

Pez’s crooning voice snaps him out of his daydream, looking up from his crude sketch of a red velvet monstrosity to see his best friend grinning at him from the doorway, shrouded in moonlight.

“Hi,” He says with a weary smile, “How was your day?”

Pez swans towards him, long sleeves billowing as he does, looking at Henry curiously, “Same old. Everything alright?”

Henry frowns, “Since when don’t you take an opportunity to talk about yourself?”

“Since you look like you’ve been hit by a train.”

“Cheers.” Henry sighs, running a hand through his hair and grimacing at the feeling of icing squelching between his fingertips, “I need a bloody shower.”

“The one thing in life I can’t help you with, mate.” Pez says with a pout, “Or having a piss, or a wank…let’s just say anything cock related I am taking a gracious step back.”

“Don’t say cock in my shop, it’s vulgar.” He glances around suspiciously, “These cakes are pure.”

“You just said it-“

“Can we go home?” Henry interrupts, feeling the beginnings of a migraine press against his temples, “I have a meeting in the morning and I need at least twelve hours of sleep.”

“And a wank?”

“Get out.”

Pez falls out the front door with an echoing laugh, nearly barrelling right into a pedestrian that shouts a curse over their shoulder at him.

“Ah,” Pez says as Henry locks the front door of the bakery, “I love New York.”

Henry hums non-committedly, his brain running too fast to come to any clear thoughts. As though sensing this, Pez takes pity on him and barrels into a story about sixteen year old Tonya and her ‘disaster of a day’.

“So,” Pez says much later when they’re sprawled across the couch, his dog David perched on Pez’s lap, “who’s your meeting with?”

“Not sure,” Henry takes a sip of his tea before placing it on the side table, “CD Wedding Planners?”

“Never heard of ‘em. Any clue what they’re enlisting you for?”

“Not a one. She was extremely vague over the phone and I’m half convinced she’s punking me.”

“Ooh, keep me posted. I’d love for you to end up on the news.”

“The only way that is happening-“

“-is when they try you for my untimely death. I know the drill, Haz.”

Henry chuckles, curling up more into the couch and tucking his socked feet into Pez’s side, “Maybe some good will come of it. I googled them, they’re a big deal, could help get more business.”

“Do you even want more business?”

He shrugs, “Couldn’t hurt. What else am I doing? If I’m not there, I’m here.”

“You know…Anna at the shelter was telling me about these mixers-“

“No.” He cuts in firmly, the volume of his voice making David raise his head, “I am not going to a soulmate mixer.”

“But-“

“Not a bloody chance.”

“Your soulmate-“

“Is likely back in England.” He groans, grabbing a cushion and burying his face in it, “I don’t need one.”

“You don’t need one, but you bloody well want one.” Pez says with a teasing lilt in his voice that makes Henry whack him with the pillow, “He could be right under your nose, you know.”

“An American?” He says with a fake exaggerated gasp, “The horror.”

“Well when me and my sexy American soulmate are living on a yacht, you and David can visit.”

“Much obliged, Percy, much obliged.”

It’s not that he’s avoiding any hopes of a soulmate, he just isn’t seeking one out. There’s a difference. His parents had met by complete chance, bumping into each other in the middle of the grounds at Uni. There was no reason for their paths to ever have crossed and they did.

That’s the hope that Henry holds out for, yet deep down, deep deep down, he is terrified.

At having that kind of love, then having to lose it.

💒🍰

By the time his bakery door chimes to alert him of a visitor the next morning, he has managed to entirely forget about CD and their meeting. He’s currently elbow deep in cake batter, smearing it across his forehead when he reaches up to wipe away sweat.

“Oh,” He says as he looks up, “Sorry. Can I help you?”

A man and woman stand across from the counter, staring at him in silence. The woman is short, tanned, with dark red lips curled up in a slight smile as she stares at him through a pair of dark sunglasses. Unfortunately for Henry’s sanity, she does not hold his attention for long.

That honour belongs to the man at her side, tall, dark and handsome in its truest form, with dark raven curls falling haphazardly across his face. Undoubtedly, unabashedly the most beautiful man Henry has ever seen. His eyes are a deep molten brown that catch his own, making Henry’s heart jolt in his chest.

There’s something vaguely familiar about him, the sight tugging something in his chest that he can’t quite decipher.

“Henry?” The woman asks, making his gaze slowly trail back to her, “Henry Fox?”

“That’s me.” He says, wincing as he feels batter drip from his forehead and land on the counter. The man’s eyes follow the movement, mouth set in a frown, “You are?”

“June Claremont Diaz.” She sticks her hand out to shake before quickly putting it back by her side, “We have a meeting at ten?”

“Shit.” Henry gasps, whirling around and yanking a tea towel from a hook, trying to wipe his hands clean, “I am so sorry, today has been insane already.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The man drawls, his voice deep and low, a slight twang breaking through, “It’s not like we’re busy or anything.”

“Alex.” June hisses as Henry turns to face them with a raised eyebrow.

Gorgeous or not - Henry is running on four hours sleep and has already had two phone calls with middle aged American women screaming at him; he does not have the energy for this.

“I apologised.” He says curtly, “I don’t know what more you want from me. Would you like to have this meeting or not?”

Alex’s eyes flash with something furious and he opens his mouth to retort before June slaps her palm over it, quickly shutting him up.

“We would love to.” June cuts in, “I apologise for my brother, he hasn’t had any coffee yet.”

“Don’t apologise for me, I’m not a child.” Alex hisses as he yanks June’s hand away.

“Could have fooled me.” Henry says before he even realises that he’s said it.

Alex’s eyes widen, “Ex-fuckin-scuse me?”

Henry clears his throat, seeing June’s stricken expression and really not wanting to poke this bear, “Shall I make coffee?”

Even with a freshly brewed cup of coffee half downed, Alex is still glaring daggers at him from across one of the tables.

“So,” June starts with a warm smile as Henry tries desperately to keep his focus on her. It’s insanely difficult, his gaze slowly drifting to Alex again and again, only to be met with absolute rage, “we are CD Wedding Planners, I don’t know if you’ve heard of us.”

“I’m sorry, I haven’t.” He says, which makes Alex scoff quietly, “Can I help you?”

Alex simply rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Anyway,” June continues, “we are currently contracted to do Alicia Thyme’s wedding next month.”

Henry nods, not entirely sure who Alicia Thyme is or why June put so much emphasis on her name.

“He doesn’t know who she is, Bug.” Alex chimes in, and Henry can feel him glaring at him.

He doesn’t understand how Alex has instant disdain for him, but judging by his behaviour, Henry is well on his way to feeling the same, no matter how beautiful he may be.

“Oh, sorry. She’s a New York socialite. Her father has money in oil. Twenty million Instagram followers.” June looks at him and he nods before she continues, “And she has come across your bakery and is demanding one of your cakes.”

“Me? My cakes? How did she even find it?” He’s certain that the Instagram page Pez runs for him has about two hundred followers at most.

“The wedding convention last year.” Alex says slowly, his tone very pointed and Henry can’t for the life of him figure out why, “Do you remember?”

Vague bits and pieces of the event filtered through his mind and he wonders how on earth he managed to forget an entire event -

Oh. Right.

That had been the day Hunter had met his soulmate, got drunk, and dragged him up to the room he and Henry shared. The day where Henry walked in on them and decided to get rip roaringly drunk before falling asleep on one of the couches in the lobby.

Not his proudest moment, but thankfully one he has shoved to the furthest reaches of his mind - until now.

“Um. Not entirely. Bit of a blur.”

“Of course you don’t.” Alex says, still looking extremely put out and Henry can’t understand why, “Well, she came by your stand and was obsessed with that one cake you made…the six tiers of gift boxes?”

“Oh yes, I do remember that one. She wants me?” His voice goes oddly small, gaze darting over to June who is looking at him with a wide grin.

“She’s insistent, actually. We are planning her wedding for the ages so she sent us here to hire you.”

“When’s the wedding?”

“Six weeks.”

Henry cringes, thinking of the binder full of orders that he should be working on right this moment, “I appreciate the offer but I just have a lot of orders at the moment. I’m a solo operation I’m not sure if I could have it planned, design and made on time-“

“Oh of course.” June cuts in, eyes darting to Alex at her side, “Which is why Alex will be helping you.”

“What?” They say in perfect unison, Henry refusing point blank to look at the other man, the weight of his glare boring a hole into the side of his face.

“Bug, what the fuck-“ Alex’s hand smacks onto the countertop, inadvertently landing beside Henry’s, their pinky fingers brushing.

Henry jolts away as if he’s been burned, cradling his hand on his lap and ignoring the electricity that shoots through him at the innocent touch.

“No,” June says calmly, “This wedding is the biggest thing we have ever taken on and the only thing more important to her than her dress, is this cake. So you can help Henry sketch and plan it, get everything ready so that the week before all he has to do is roll out of bed and bake it. Got it?”

Her voice is light and airy, but the tone undercutting it is enough to send a shiver down Henry’s spine, so he remains silent. Alex’s glare moves from where it had been directly pointed at Henry, back towards his sister.

All Henry can do is stare at them - at him - and wonder how the hell he is supposed to exist in this man’s general vicinity for the next few weeks when he is torn between wanting to strangle him and wanting to kiss him.

“Fine.” Alex says stiffly, eyes narrowed at his sister as he flops back in his chair, arms folded, “When do we start?”

As the pair bicker amongst themselves, Henry can’t help but think about the fact that he never actually agreed to do this.

He continues to watch them, his pinky finger still twitching in his lap.

💒🍰

June, Henry has found, is an absolute delight. She’s warm, bright and bubbly with a snark beneath the surface that never fails to make him laugh out loud. Her brother, on the other hand, has begun to leave a sour taste in his mouth each time he speaks.

They’ve visited three times in the following week, Alex trailing glumly behind her like a sullen child while Henry tries his best not to meet his glares head on. He’s utterly infuriating, a big child who wants to make it very clear that he hates Henry’s presence.

So Henry, the gentleman that he is, chooses to simply ignore him - which only makes Alex worse.

When Henry will give an idea to June, Alex will cut across him with a dozen questions that Henry has already given answers to previously. When June is speaking, he can feel Alex glaring at him across the table. When Alex is speaking, his eyes bore into Henry’s own, dark and narrowed.

Henry is sure it’s giving him some kind of complex; the mix of frustration and downright attraction making his head spin.

Each time June apologises profusely as Alex waits outside the front door - pointedly refusing to say goodbye - and Henry waves her off, both of them baffled as to why he’s acting this way. That’s to say, Henry isn’t completely innocent. By the third visit he’s giving as good as he’s getting, making their debates much more heated while June looks on glumly.

One night after a particularly long row between him and Alex, he storms into his apartment, drenched by rain to find Pez sprawled across their couch.

“Oh there he is!” Pez says, sitting up and tossing his magazine aside, “How is Mr Sexy?”

“I think you mean Mr Snarky.” Henry sighs, peeling his soaked jacket off and slinging it across the coat hook. He goes to unbutton his shirt, grimacing at the cool fabric pressed to his damp skin, “He’s being a right prick. Today he snarked at me for forty minutes over shades of red. He’s insufferable.”

“And yet you want to fuck him.” Pez trills in a sing-songy voice, looking absolutely delighted.

Henry rolls his eyes as he throws off his shirt entirely, “I can dislike someone and want to fuck them, that doesn’t mean - why are you looking at me like that?”

“Take off your pants.” Pez says, as if this is a normal thing to say to your best friend, but his face is utterly determined.

“Excuse me?”

“Off.” His tone leaves no room for argument and Henry is too stunned to argue, unbuckling his belt and peeling his jeans off of his body, “Lower your boxers.”

“Pez.”

“Do it.”

Henry frowns, dragging his boxers down slightly, looking down to see what the hell he’s on about until he notices it, “Oh.”

There’s a small black scrawl against his hip bone, extremely low and close to the crease of his thigh, resting directly next to his cock. His eyes widen, honing in on the black script that can only mean one thing - unless he managed to get a drunken tattoo.

His heart stutters in his chest, his breath almost choking him at the realisation that he’s found him, wherever he may be, he’s somewhere. His soulmate knows he exists. His soulmate has spoken about him, said his name aloud and whatever may have accompanied it.

Pez lets out an unholy shriek, almost tripping over his feet as he falls to the floor, crawling towards Henry and poking at his hip bone, getting far too close to his dick for comfort, “Oh my bloody Christ.”

“What does it say?” Henry asks shakily, fingers trembling where they’re pressed against his skin.

Pez laughs, his own voice shaking as he says, “Disney prince.”

“Great.” Henry groans, dragging a shaky hand down his face, “That’s what you want to hear.”

“Could be worse. He could have called you an ugly freak.”

“Small mercies.”

Pez stands, poking his soulmark as he goes up, grinning at the almost naked Henry standing in their living room, “Any idea who it could be?”

“No.” He says glumly, “It could be anyone. I was expecting it on my chest so I haven’t even looked…down there in detail.”

Pez looks at him carefully, eyes sparkling with curiosity in a way where Henry knows he isn’t going to enjoy the next sentence that leaves his lips, “Henry…I am asking this as your best friend. When was the last time you looked at your dick?”

Henry’s teeth sink into his lower lip as he wracks his brain, “I don’t know…a week ago? I’ve been showering when I get home and I’ve been so bloody tired I’m like a zombie.”

Pez rolls his eyes, “You could have had this mark for a week? How many men have you come across since then?”

“This week alone, I’ve had about ten gay men stroll into the shop.” He wants to slap himself, the fact that he had his soulmate within arms reach and didn’t even know it.

His mother’s mark had been on her collarbone, his fathers on his chest, Philip’s on his shoulder. Henry hadn’t expected himself to be any different, and his eyes fall to his chest each and every night as he brushes his teeth. Never once have his eyes strayed below his boxer line - why would they?

“Can you get their details?”

Henry splutters, cheeks flushing at the implication, “I am not stalking my soulmate.”

“It would be romantic!”

“It would be Dahmer-esque. There’s no point rushing it. It will happen when it’s supposed to.” The mantra that is said by everyone and their mother when it comes to soulmates.

“Ugh.” Pez picks up Henry’s wet clothes and begins to stroll to the kitchen, “You’re so boring.”

“I’m civilised dear,” Henry says as he makes his way to his bedroom, “there’s a difference.”

He goes to his chest of drawers, rifling through for a pair of shorts, one that ride low on his lips, that will make the delicate swirl of his soulmark remain visible for a little while longer.

“Hey,” Pez calls from the other room, his voice easily carrying, “what if it’s Alex?”

A beat of silence passes between them before they both burst into a fit of laughter, Henry shaking his head with a smile as he pulls out his pyjamas.

“Imagine.” He snorts. The very thought borders on insanity.

His soulmate, a childish, sullen man who lives to rile Henry up, to make him genuinely angry and rude in a way that Henry never thought he would be. A man who has gotten deep under his skin in three meetings. A man who is so otherworldly beautiful that it makes his chest ache when he looks at him.

The thought is preposterous.

He takes a moment before he pulls on his pants to look at it in the mirror, stroking the pad of his thumb across it. The moment he touches the skin, it begins to shift before his eyes, making him jolt. Even backwards in the mirror, he can make out the singular word etched in lowercase across his skin.

beautiful.

💒🍰

“I am so sorry,” June says with a mournful sniffle, the line crackling as she speaks, “I think I might be going into a coma.”

“Don’t say that.” Henry tries his best to sound reassuring, “Cold induced comas are very rare these days.”

June barks out a laugh that quickly dissolves into a coughing fit. When she composed herself, she dryly says, “Thanks.”

“So it’s…just Alex then?” Henry’s half hoping the other man cancels entirely.

“Yes. It probably will be just you two from here on out. I need to start focusing on the floral arrangements. We are T-minus five weeks out and if she doesn’t have green hydrangeas the world will burn.”

“Do those even exist?”

“If they don’t, they’re about to.” June pauses, and he can feel the weight of her silence through the phone line, “Thank you, Henry. I know Alex is a bit…testy with you.”

“It’s alright, I’m sure we can manage a single evening together.”

“I’m sure.” June sounds doubtful, but it’s quickly covered by another coughing fit, “Let me know if he kills you - or you kill him. Mom will want to see the body.”

“Ha ha.” Henry says and hangs up as June has a laughing/coughing fit down the phone line.

The shop is blissfully silent as he hangs up, the sign on the bakery door flipped to Closed. His first wedding is next week, a massive sponge cake with three tiers that he somehow has to transport to upper Manhattan for nine am on a Saturday.

The weirdest thing about realising you’ve met your soulmate, is that life continues to move on around you. Wheels don’t stop turning just because your entire world has shifted on its axis. The man that Henry is meant to love more than anything or anyone else in this world, is going about his day, talking about Henry.

He realises it can be any number of men, Mark that comes in to gauge a wedding cake for his sister and absolutely flirts with him each time and how his land landed on his shoulder. It could be Jacob, the new barista that knows exactly how he likes his tea each morning, their hands brushing as he gives him his change. It could not be - despite Pez’s gleeful insistence - Alex.

He had entertained the thought, however briefly, but when the words on his skin remained entirely positive, he knew that couldn’t be the case. Whether he feels disappointed or relieved by this is still entirely up for debate.

When the door bell chimes, he knows it can only be one person.

“Evening Fox,” Alex drawls in that honeyed tone of his, closing the door behind him, flipping the lock, “How goes it?”

“Fine.” Henry knows his tone is clipped, but that familiar thrum that seems to run through his body every time Alex is in his presence has begun, “How are you?”

“Fuckin’ dandy. Shall we?” He gestures to one of the tables and begins to lay his things down before Henry responds, sliding into a chair.

Henry nods, sitting in the opposite chair and wondering how long they can make it without sniping at each other.

“So…” He starts slowly, “I thought maybe white with lime green accents, since she is getting the green hydrangeas.”

“Lime green on a wedding cake?” Alex says, face screwed up in disgust and managing to beat their record for shortest time between fights, “Sounds like toxic waste. Sage would be much better.”

“I am trying to make the bride happy.”

“You are trying to ruin my reputation.” Alex’s fingers drum against the tabletop, his foot incessantly tap, tap, tapping against the linoleum floor.

Every movement makes Henry’s anxieties rise, an itch beneath his skin that he can’t quite scratch.

Henry laughs at this, the sound echoing in the small space, “You manage to do that all on your own, Alex.”

“Listen here, you fucking-“

And he can’t take it anymore, can’t the pure hatred in Alex’s eyes, how it burns him down deep into his core.

“What is your problem with me?” Henry asks suddenly, his blood thrumming in his veins, begging him to do something, “I don’t understand what I did to you that has made you so abhorrent from the start.”

“God, you’re fucking unbelievable.” Alex says with a bewildered laugh, throwing one of his hands up, “Are we still playing this game?”

“What bloody game?”

Alex’s face runs through a mix of emotions, before settling on thundering, “Fucking forget it if you’re going to act like a child.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Henry can’t help the disbelieving laugh that spills from his lips, entirely frustrated and pained and bloody confused by the man sitting in front of him.

“The wedding convention? You’re seriously forgetting the night we met?”

“We met?” Henry’s voice is hollow.

Guess that rules out him being Henry’s soulmate. He isn’t quite sure why the thought makes his chest ache.

“Wow.” Alex says, “You’re a fucking asshole. I don’t know what the fuck June sees in you but I clearly can’t fucking get it. Whatever, design whatever fucking cake you want but I’m out of here.”

“Alex-“

“I’ll see you at the fucking wedding.” He stands, chair scraping back, the sound making both of them wince, before gathering his things and storming towards the door, “Asshole.”

Henry stands there long after Alex has left, the hollow feeling in his chest bordering on crippling agony as his brain tries to come to terms with whatever the hell just happened.

💒🍰

Henry puts on a soul patch.

He hadn’t been planning on it, but a glance down at his mark that reads infuriatingly oblivious makes his heart clench in his chest. The thought of those words getting worse hurts more than anything else. For some reason, he buys a twenty four pack, and hopes that maybe he can shake off whatever this is before they run out.

It had been the last thing he ever planned on doing. He had always thought he would cherish his soulmark and all that it means, that he would wake up each morning, giddy with excitement to see what it has changed to. Now, all he feels is a hollow ache at the fact that his soulmate may not even want him.

He cries the morning they arrive, slapping one over his latest mark, blue eyed bambi, whatever that may mean. His stomach churns as he does it, hands trembling as he struggles to lay the adhesive against his skin, but his heart can’t take it anymore - not yet.

He can’t take the fact that his soulmate might hate him.

For someone that has always wanted to meet his soulmate, he wishes he could go back to before this bloody mark even appeared. He doesn’t want it, and he cannot understand the sudden shift or why. It’s an uncomfortable itch that has lingered under his skin since the moment Pez pointed the mark out, an anxiety thrumming beneath the surface that he cannot find the origin of.

It’s driving him demented.

He thinks it would be better if his soulmate is Alex. Because he at least knows where they stand, knows that Alex dislikes him for a reason. But he knows it can’t be, not when they’ve met before.

Even if Henry doesn’t remember it, Alex clearly does.

He knows that night is entirely a blur, each time he tries to recall it hurts his brain more than the last. Utterly distraught, he had drowned his sorrows in liquor until he was barely capable of speech, which is how Alex likely found him.

If only he and Alex could have started out on the right foot. He wonders would Alex still look at him with disdain, or perhaps something else entirely.

The thought of his soulmate being out there, hating him is enough to make him nauseous.

Pez notices the white patch sticking out from the bare patch of skin between his pants and shirt when he raises his arms to get his tea bags from the cupboard the next morning. He thankfully doesn’t comment.

Throwing himself into work becomes easy, not thinking about Alex is the difficult part.

He designs the cake, the lime green toned down to an earthy sage - a decision he makes entirely on his own. He then sends it to June who readily approves of it, inviting him out to drink with her, her girlfriend and Alex. He quickly declines and turns his phone off.

Part of him considers texting Alex, extending the olive branch, but he quickly shuts the idea down. The other man hates him enough as it is and, despite himself, Henry is well on the way for that feeling to be mutual.

He knows he can’t avoid Alex forever, but he is going to make it as long as possible.

Henry isn’t one to hold a grudge, he isn’t one to hate people. But when he thinks of Alex, all he can feel is anger bubbling beneath his skin, and maybe that’s what hatred truly is.

For now, he isn’t thinking about it - an absolute lie, but one he tells himself daily with absolute certainty. Each and every day as he goes about his day, designs his cakes and even bakes a few, turning up to weddings with a thin smile as he pretends that his life is entirely normal and that his soulmate isn’t out there somewhere with utter disdain for him. Each time he has to change the patch, he keeps his eyes trained upward.

The wedding rolls around much quicker than Henry had been anticipating, and before he knows it, he’s carefully transporting a six tiered wedding cake into a highly secured venue. Men in black suits guide him through the lobby as though he’s the president of the United States, talking into ear pieces and glancing over their shoulders every few seconds.

June is already there when he arrives, standing in the centre of the ballroom with her hands on her hips, calling up to a man hanging a banner.

“That’s not the way - Oh Henry!” She cuts herself off when she spots him, pulling him into a tight hug, “How are you? It’s been ages.”

He fidgets with the button on his sleeve before dropping his arm, “Good, good. How are you?”

“Fine, the cake looks gorgeous.” She stares at it on the table nearby, currently being wheeled out by one of the Men In Black looking security team, “Managed it without Alex, did you?”

“He had some input.” Before he promptly ignored Henry for five weeks, which he happily reciprocated.

“I would love to know what his fucking problem is.” June sighs, “Whatever. I’ve warned him to be on his best behaviour or we will be having words.”

Henry simply nods, wondering if the sight of Alex after five harrowing weeks will be enough to send him into a coma. Once June is distracted by the decor again, he moves across the room towards where the cake has been set up, circling it and peering closely to make sure nothing has smudged in the thirty minutes since his last inspection.

“Well,” A voice says behind him, “you finally saw sense, did you?”

“Alex.” He says stiffly, keeping his eyes on the cake, his back now ramrod straight as he fights the urge to glance over his shoulder, “You made it.”

“Of course I fucking did, where else would I be?”

“Down a well? I don’t know what you do with your life, Alex.”

He can feel movement behind him until Alex is standing directly at his side, their shoulders pressed together. The contact is too much, yet not enough all at once.

“Is that how you thank someone for a compliment, Fox?”

“I would thank you if you had given me one.” The thrumming beneath his skin has raised to obscene levels, his skin flushing, spreading to every part of him.

“You’re such a fucking asshole.”

Now, Henry can’t help the way his head violently snaps to the side, gaping at the other man who is scowling at him, “Excuse me?”

“You swan in here after five fucking weeks, cut me out of the cake entirely and you’ve barely even looked at me. You think you’re better than me and it’s not fucking true.”

“I changed the cake for you. Did your bloody sage green.” He pauses, frowning as the words catch up to him, “I don’t think I’m better than you.”

“Sure you don’t.” Alex scoffs, leaning in closely to inspect the cake and Henry’s hands twitch at his sides with the overwhelming urge to yank him back, “You act like you just scraped me off your shoe.”

“Because you’re so…mean to me.” It sounds entirely petulant when it leaves his lips, which he quickly realises.

Alex straightens up, slowly turning to face Henry, glancing up at him with a doe eyed expression, “Mean? Did I pull on your pigtails a little too hard?”

“Forgive me, here I thought you would be capable of an adult conversation.” Henry sighs, turning to walk away, eyes scanning across the room to see if he can find where June has wandered off to, “I’ll see you after, Alex.”

“Wait-” Alex’s hand clamps down on his shoulder and he freezes, body stiffening at the contact. Something feels wrong, a nauseating feeling spreading from head to toe and he needs air. He needs to get out of here.

Jerking away, he tries to move out of Alex’s grip but the other man is steadfast, fingers digging in and curling against his shoulder. Panicked, Henry pulls himself away with a yank, which has the adverse effect of Alex stumbling backwards, directly towards the cake.

“No!” He says with a squeak, shoving Alex to the side so that he thankfully doesn’t send the cake careening towards the floor.

Instead sending Alex sprawling into the champagne tower, his arm flying out and managing to grab Henry’s arm, dragging him down with him.

Perfect.

💒🍰

“-stay in there until you sort your shit.” June snaps, slamming the bathroom door behind them, leaving Alex and Henry standing in stunned silence.

They’re both dripping onto the tiles, Henry wincing at the squelching sound when he takes a step forward. June has left them chef’s whites and pants for them to change into. He wordlessly steps forward, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it into the sink.

“Henry.”

He doesn’t answer, using the napkins from the wall dispenser to pat down his chest, feeling how sticky his skin has already become. Thankfully, the bride and guests are still at the ceremony, and June is already fixing the mess that they’ve made.

“Henry, come on.”

“What, Alex?” He says with a sigh, looking up and catching Alex’s eyes in the mirror. Alex is staring at him with an expression he can’t even begin to decipher, “What else is there to say?”

“I don’t-”

Frustration bubbles within him and the words begin to spill out before he can try and stop them, “All we had to do was get through one day, then never have to see each other again. And you couldn’t even do that.”

Alex’s entire face turns into a glower, taking a step forward as he begins to unbutton his own shirt and Henry can feel his entire body flushing, eyes honing in on the bare skin being revealed with each button, “This was not all my fault.”

“Wasn’t it? You were the one that started on me, being a bloody prick the moment you laid eyes on me.”

"Oh yeah? Well, you're an obtuse fucking asshole!"

"Really?" Henry scoffs, whirling around to face him, damp tissue still in hand as he points a finger at the other man, "You're such a bloody child!"

"I am not!" Henry is very surprised Alex doesn’t stomp his foot petulantly as he says the words.

"God, Alex, I don't know how you get through life being so-"

"...So?"

But Henry isn't responding, his train of thought cut off entirely at the sight of the cursive scrawl on Alex's now exposed chest, shirt entirely unbuttoned. The font is in perfect cursive, looping around the letters as his eyes hone in on two words in startling clarity, black ink against tanned skin.

Bloody child.

"Prick." Henry says, nothing more than a breath, and watches as the font curls and changes to reflect the word.

"Ex-fucking-scuse me?"

Panicked at the thought of Alex being stood directly in front of a mirror, he whispers underneath his breath the first word that comes to mind, “Gorgeous.”

“Are you having a stroke?”

Henry watches as the word shifts before his eyes to reflect the word he’s just spoken, one Alex has not heard and will absolutely never associate with him.

“Hello? Anyone in there?”

Henry’s hands are shaking by his sides, his head a whirl of nothing but Alex, Alex, Alex, Alex. What the hell is going on?

“Dude, do I need to call a fucking ambulance?” Alex reaches forward and knocks on his forehead like it’s a door, making Henry jolt out of his reverie and fly backwards until his back is pressed against the sink.

He has no clue how this is happening, they’ve met long before last week, so how on earth are their words only showing now? How the hell are they soulmates?

“I’m fine.” He croaks, choosing his words very carefully, “Just startled me. I need to change.”

He can feel the dampness of his trousers, pressing directly against his definitely drenched soulmark as he can already tell what it says. Alex’s face contorts into something much softer, an expression that makes Henry’s already fragile heart ache that bit more.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly, and the tone, combined with the words, are enough to spring tears to his eyes, “Oh, woah, Henry-”

“You can’t just ask someone if they’re alright.” Henry hisses, briefly squeezing his eyes shut to fight off the tears, “That is a surefire way to make someone cry.”

“I’m…sorry?”

“You should be.” Henry sniffles, heart tugging in his chest at the breathless laugh Alex lets out, “We’ve made a right mess of this, haven’t we?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure June’s going to kick my ass. You’re safe because she’s quite unfamiliar with your ass, but I think that means she’ll kick mine twice.”

“Maybe you deserve it.”

“A foot up my ass? Thanks, Fox.” Alex says dryly, but he’s still smiling at him in a way that makes Henry want to scream.

None of this makes sense, and if Henry didn’t know any better, he would assume this is an elaborate coma dream. Because Alex is standing here, smiling at him, baring his words on his chest while being none the wiser. He tries to keep his gaze locked on Alex’s, but his eyes keep trailing down to the word Gorgeous, painfully stark against the other man’s skin.

He wonders if he should say something, let Alex know, when he glances slightly downward to see a soggy white strip falling from Alex’s stomach.

“Is that a soulpatch?” Henry asks timidly, wondering if Alex is going to brush him off entirely.

Alex squints, glancing down at his body, “Oh. Yeah. Must have gotten drowned in the fuckin’ champagne. Yeah, I always wear one.” He doesn’t seem to pay any attention to the mark on his chest, picking up the soaked patch between two pinched fingers and dropping it in the sink.

“Any particular reason why?”

It looks as though Alex is going to tell him to fuck off for a moment before he shrugs, “I don’t want a soulmate.”

He doesn’t know what he had been expecting, but the words are still like a knife to his hollow chest, twisting when he attempts to breathe.

The air rushes from Henry’s lungs and he nods as though his heart isn’t shattering entirely in his chest, “Understandable.”

“My parents were soulmates.” Alex continues to explain as if Henry isn’t falling to pieces directly in front of him. He doesn’t want to know, he wants Alex to stop talking, “All they ever did was argue until they finally called it quits. I can’t stand the thought of it all. So I wear a soulpatch.”

Henry continues to nod like a bobblehead, his stomach making a valiant attempt at tearing itself to shreds, “That makes sense. Is this…a recent development?”

Like a I know you’re my soulmate and I hate you kind of recent development.

Alex shrugs, “Kinda? Maybe the last few weeks? I slapped this on the second I saw handwriting. Honestly I try to avoid looking at all.” When Alex realises that Henry isn’t going to respond, he continues, “What about you?” Alex’s eyes hone in on Henry’s chest, as though searching for the script.

Henry clears his throat, feeling his skin flush from the attention, “It’s complicated.” He turns back to face the sink, grabbing the chef’s whites and tugging them over his head, “We should get back out there.”

“Right…” Alex says quietly behind him, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Fine, thank you.” If by ‘fine’ he means he is moments away from crumbling entirely, then yes, he is fine.

The pair change in silence, stuffing their wet clothes into a plastic bag that Henry carries, swinging limply by his side as he tries to remember how to put one foot in front of the other.

Alex doesn’t want him. Alex doesn’t want him. He knows he can’t take it personally, that it’s not him in particular that has Alex so vehement, but the fact is, even if he knew, he would feel the same, if not more so.

He feels like he’s going to vomit.

Instead, he plasters a smile on his face and parts from Alex immediately as they step outside of the bathroom, ignoring the soft calls of his name behind him.

He just needs to get through one night.

💒🍰

“Mate, it’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” Henry says, swallowing a spoonful of ice cream before waving his spoon angrily at Pez, “It is that bad.”

“So, he’s your soulmate. Isn’t that kind of…a dream come true?”

That’s not the point, it isn’t even in the same vicinity as the point he is attempting to make, “Pez-”

“Have you seen the man’s arse? You have always been an arse man.” Pez waggles his eyebrows and Henry can’t even find it within himself to smile at the goofy gesture.

His heart has taken up permanent residence in his stomach since yesterday. The moment the wedding had finished, he had ducked out of the ballroom, making sure he and Alex’s paths didn’t even cross for a moment.

“Don’t be perverse.” Henry shakes his head, though Pez is bloody right, “That is not the problem here.”

“The problem is?”

“He wears a soulpatch.” He scrapes his spoon along the end of the tub, getting the last liquidy remnants before putting it on the side table, folding his arms with a huff.

“As you have been doing recently. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” Pez says lightly, offering Henry a heaped spoon of his own ice cream, which he readily takes.

“He wears his because he doesn’t want a soulmate.” Henry says once he swallows, the words making that uncomfortable feeling beneath his skin flare up once more, “I wear mine because the words were too negative. I can now see why.”

“Do you think that maybe he would feel differently if he knew it was you?”

Henry’s response is instantaneous, “No. Absolutely not. I think it would make him feel more so.”

“Haz-”

“No, Pez. This is fine. He’s a bloody prick on a good day and I am definitely not what he’s looking for.”

He can feel his own soulmark tingling from beneath his trousers, and a very large part of him wants to peel back the patch and see what Alex is saying about him. The urge is fairly quickly tampered down and he turns back to face Pez, who is looking at him with something close to pity in his eyes.

“Haz…you’re soulmates, you can’t just…not be soulmates.”

“Soulmates don’t end up together all the time.” He quotes the statistic, “It’s very common. Besides, it’s not like our paths will have to cross again. The wedding is over, he wants nothing to do with me, I want nothing to do with him. It’s fine.”

Maybe if he says it enough times, it will become true.

💒🍰

“It looks…”

Henry inhales deeply, hands clenched into tight fists beneath the counter as he stares at Ms Garrison and wonders why he ever thought this career path would be suitable for him. In another life, he could have been a writer, maybe a doctor, even a monarch might have been less stressful than dealing with this woman for another second.

“Perfect.” She finishes with a clap of her hands, making Henry gape at her incredulously, quickly snapping his jaw shut, “I told you the red velvet was the correct choice. And you didn’t want to listen.”

“You were right.” He grits out, pained smile threatening to split his face in half, “Are you taking it today?”

“Yes,” She nods, rifling through her purse, “You are a miracle worker. You just need to learn to listen to others dear.”

“Mhm.” Henry says, gaze drifting over her head to the two familiar people in the doorway. Shit.

“Just slightly oblivious dear, something to work on in the future.”

“I completely agree.” He says distractedly as the pair come through the door, bell chiming in their wake. He snaps out of it as a pair of dark brown eyes meet his own, “Thank you Ms Garrison, I hope your daughter’s day is magical.”

She smiles, scoops up the cake box with extraordinary strength before making her way out of the bakery. A beat passes as the three of them stare at each other, Henry unable to tear his eyes away from Alex.

His soulmate. The man the universe has deigned belongs with him, beside him. The man that would likely rather die than do anything of the sort with him.

“Henry!” June greets him first and she rounds the counter, pulling him into a tight hug with an affection he still isn’t quite used to, but hugs her back readily, “How have you been?”

Tortured, mostly, he thinks, but does not say aloud, his eyes instinctually drifting towards Alex, who is staring at him blankly, his mouth set in a firm line.

“Busy.” He says instead, “How are you…both?”

Alex snorts out a quiet laugh, eyes narrowing at Henry, “We’re great. Thanks.”

“Oh…kay?” Henry looks back at June, who’s smiling at him slightly manically, her hands clasped together in front of her, “How can I help?”

“We have a proposition.”

“We?” Henry’s eyes dart back to Alex, whose arms are folded as he leans his hip against the counter, “Really now?”

“Yes. We.” Alex grunts, rolling his eyes, “Mostly June.”

“Right.”

“Anyway!” June continues, “Your cake was a massive hit at the wedding, I mean massive. We got about twelve cards that night from socialites who want CD weddings.”

He smiles warmly, “Oh June, that’s wonderful.”

“Mhm…and with that…well they are very insistent on Henry Fox originals for their wedding cakes.”

“Oh.” He blinks owlishly, taking a small step back, “Really?”

“All of our emails for the past week have mentioned you.” Alex chimes in, for once not sounding entirely disgusted by Henry’s general existence, a welcome change, “It seems to be a dealbreaker for a lot of them.”

“Me? So you want me to make you guys some more cakes?”

“Well…” June looks up at him with wide brown eyes, so similar to her brother’s as she tilts her head to the side almost innocently, “We had something a bit more…in depth, in mind.”

“In depth.” He repeats.

“Bug, will you tell the parrot your plan before he manages to repeat everything we say?”

His glare is hopefully scathing as he levels Alex with it, hoping anger is enough to explain the flush that spreads across his cheeks. Alex’s eyes sparkle when they meet his, the beginnings of a smile curling at his lips. It’s enough to make him look away.

“We want to work together.” June says, “Combine businesses.”

“What?”

“You’re a one man operation, so are we. Alex only counts as half.” She waves off his indignant protests, “We could make a killing here, Henry. Your cakes, our weddings, we get the business. You get the exposure. And I know you have an eye for flowers too.”

“You want to bring me into your business? Are you sure that’s wise?”

“Why? Planning on cutting us out?” Alex asks amusedly, raising a singular eyebrow and making Henry’s brain short circuit for a few blissful seconds.

“I’m just saying that it is a very big decision to centre around a man you barely know.”

“We know you well enough.” Something in Alex’s tone feels pointed, like he’s baiting Henry.

He chooses not to rise to it.

“I still have some existing orders to deal with-”

June is quick to chime in, clasping one of Henry’s hands in two of her own, “Of course. We wouldn’t want to interfere with your own business. We tend to do only one big wedding at a time anyway. You don’t have to make a decision now, but-”

He thinks about it. Truly thinks about it. It would be a wonderful opportunity for his business, but he would have to spend a lot of time with Alex. He would get to hone his skills more - but he would have to spend countless hours pouring over colour wheels and working late into the night with Alex. He could take his business to the next level, perhaps hire more employees, but he would have to spend days by Alex’s side without acknowledging the fact that his soulmate is his soulmate.

“I’ll do it.” His voice sounds foreign to his own ears, but this is quickly drowned out by June’s resounding squeal as she throws her arms around his neck, holding tightly.

He pats her back as his eyes drift to Alex’s over her shoulder. They’re curious as they look back at him, his smile a lot more genuine as he gives Henry a small but barely there nod.

Above all else, Henry Fox is a consummate professional, and it will not be an issue for him to work day in and day out with his soulmate by his side without ever telling the other man that they are, in fact, soulmates. A man that hates him on principle, can’t even look at him without heat in his eyes and a snarky comment on his lips.

A man that would likely be infuriated to find out who his soulmate truly is.

While his father may have been the actor in the family, Henry believes that he can pull this off.

It’s not like he has a bloody choice.

💒🍰

Life has become particularly torturous in the following weeks.

“You know,” Alex says around a mouthful of ground beef, “that is the ugliest fucking orange I have ever seen.”

“Alex-”

“Seriously, somewhere out there, Trump is showing his makeup artist this swatch.”

“For Christ’s sake-”

“-and his artist is going, even for you, you absolute bag of human waste, that is far too orange.”

“Alright, alright!” Henry can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in his chest, flipping to the next page in the book, “Ix-nay on the orangeyay.”

Alex makes a show of crossing his heart, his fingers dangerously close to where Henry knows his soulmark lies beneath his shirt, “That’s all I ask. Now…a burnt umber colour could greatly work with this bride’s complexion.”

“You’ve met her?”

“Briefly.” Alex makes grabby hands at the bottle of water closest to Henry’s side, which he passes to him, “Her soulmates a dick.”

“Mhm?” Henry asks, voice muffled as he digs into his own taco, “How?”

“Smarmy, WASPy motherfucker. Trust fund, born and bred. Has never had to do a thing in his entire life.”

“Sounds like my type.” Henry jokes, but it falls flat at the way Alex’s shoulders stiffen, his easy smile falling.

The tentative truce between the two has been interesting to say the least. They have even managed to coexist one on one without June there to mediate. It’s been nice, despite the anxiety settled deep in Henry’s core at being in such close proximity to his soulmate - who doesn’t even know.

But there are subtle moments, much like this one, where Alex shuts him out entirely, walls clanging back up with enough speed to make his head spin. And he can’t figure out why.

“You said your situation with your soulmate is complicated.” Alex begins, fingers thrumming against the countertop, “What did you mean by that?”

“That’s a bit personal, is it not?”

Alex shrugs, “Humour me.”

Henry bites down on his tongue, enough to send a sharp pang through the nerve as he considers how best to approach this, “Like I said, it’s complicated.”

“You’ve met?”

“Yes.”

“Are you…together?”

“No.” He can’t help the self deprecating laugh that spills from his lips, “Absolutely not.” His eyes remain firmly trained on the colour swatch in his hands, unable to meet Alex’s eyes in case he can see it emanating from every part of him.

“Yikes, that bad?”

His lips quirk up in a smile, “No. Now…this kind of burnt umber?”

Alex, blissfully, lets the subject drop, though it isn’t long before old habits come back to life.

“For Christ’s sake, Alex, must you be so bloody obstinate?” He flips his book closed and shoves it towards the other man, “Everything I say, you have to dispute!”

“Well, you’re making insane suggestions!”

“In what world, are orange roses insane?”

“They don’t go with burnt umber!”

“We never bloody agreed on burnt umber!”

“We don’t need to agree. I’m the wedding planner, you’re the baker.”

“We’re partners now, sweetheart.” He manages to push every lingering feeling of resentment into his tone, “Remember?”

Alex’s face darkens, a low flush rising in his cheeks as his glare becomes murderous, “You haven’t changed a fucking bit, have you?”

“Back to this. I have told you countless times that I don’t remember the day we met, Alex.”

“Why would you?” Something in Henry stops at the despondent tone in Alex’s voice, “Forget it.”

“Tell me?”

He doesn’t know if it’s the fact that Alex has given up on him entirely, or the downright pathetic tone in Henry’s voice but he sighs, leaning back in his seat.

“It was the last night of the wedding conference last year. I followed you on Instagram and wanted to come say hi. I was a,” He huffs out a bashful laugh, ducking his head, “uh big fan. I leave it until the end of the night and I find you at the bar. Immediately, you start spouting off to leave you alone, barely speaking fucking English. I thought maybe you were just drunk but when I reached out to make sure you were alright, you practically threw yourself off the chair so I wouldn’t touch you, snapping about ‘eyelashes’ before running away from me.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Oh.” Henry parrots, staring at Alex as his brain tries to piece together any recollection of that night.

Then it hits him like a bolt of lightning.

“Two ssshots please.” Henry saluted the bartender, a gummy grin on his face as the man did so, sliding them towards him, “You, good sir, are a gentleman and a scholar.”

Henry couldn’t remember the last time he had drank, let alone to that extent but the warm fuzzy feeling managed to outweigh the utter shame and disgust in his system at walking in on his boyfriend fucking someone else - on their hotel bed.

“Mayhaps more shots.” He murmured to himself, tracing his finger along the trail of salt he spilled on the countertop, “Lots more shots.”

“Excuse me, Henry?”

He spun on his stool, letting out a little giggle at the rush it gave him before he found himself face to face with the most beautiful man he had ever seen, with long lashes fanning across deep brown eyes, piercing into his own.

“Oh.” He said.

“Hi…my name’s Alex and I-” His hand reached out, likely to shake his own but Henry’s body moved on instinct, practically throwing himself off the stool.

Henry had never been one to shy under the attentions of a beautiful man, but in that moment, drunker than he had ever been, the knowledge of his boyfriend upstairs sleeping with someone else, his stomach churned.

He was going to be sick. He needed out.

“Fucking eyelashes.” He grumbled, stumbling away from the stunned man who seemed rooted to the spot when Henry chanced one last glance over his shoulder.

His hands are trembling on top of the counter, a fact he only notices when one of Alex’s lands over them, pressing into the cool stone.

“Hen?”

“I’m sorry.” He manages to say, feeling the tears spring to his eyes.

He and Alex had never touched that night. All he can think about is what if he had allowed Alex to grasp his hand? What if he had shaken Alex’s hand, allowed them to sit side by side and talk the night away.

Would they be together now? Would Alex even want to be?

“I…” He exhales sharply, “I was having a bad night. One of my worst, really. My boyfriend at the time had just found his soulmate at the event. And he had taken it upon himself to bring her upstairs - to our room.”

“Oh. Fuck. Hen-”

“I then proceeded to get blindingly drunk, horrifically so. When you stopped me I was seconds away from emptying my stomach all over your shoes. So I’m sorry. I was horrible to you.”

Alex doesn’t respond for a long moment, the only sound in the room the loud ticking of the clock above their heads.

“Alright,” Henry says with a sigh, “what else?”

Alex’s eyes dart up to finally meet his own and he is immediately thrown off guard by how vulnerable they look. The urge to reach out and cup the other man’s face between his hands is almost painful, to smooth the furrowed ridge between his brows as he clearly debates something in his mind.

“Uh…”

“Why else do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you, Hen.” He says softly, resting his chin in his hand against the counter, “Not even a little bit.”

“Oh.” The boulder that has settled in his stomach chips slightly, leaving way for small cracks, “You don’t?”

“Of course not. I thought you were a dick, that’s different.”

Henry almost laughs at the idea of his soulmark, nestling right beside his dick, reading those words.

“That’s why you’ve been acting this way?” Henry laughs disbelievingly, leaning in closer over the counter, “Because I hurt your feelings?”

“Oh what, sweetheart?” Alex says with a teasing grin, only a breath away, “You’re the one who said I was mean.”

“You were mean.” His voice drops to a low murmur, gaze dropping briefly to Alex’s parted lips before meeting his eyes once more, “Extremely.”

“Am I being mean now?” Alex’s voice is soft and warm like velvet, washing over him. His lips are no more than a breath away from his own and Henry wants to lean in, so badly.

Henry can hear as much as feel the way his heart is pounding in his chest, making its way up his throat and is likely minutes from leaping into Alex’s arms.

One singular thought stops him.

Alex doesn’t want a soulmate.

He clears his throat, pulling back with maximum effort, pushing against the invisible force driving him towards Alex’s lips, “I suppose you’re alright now.”

His heart is screaming at him, his brain not far behind and his soulmark is burning against his skin, a searing pain that he can’t help but press the heel of his hand against. Every part of him is telling Henry that he is making a major mistake, to throw himself into Alex’s arms.

But he can’t.

Alex may want him, but Henry can’t stomach the thought of that being all it is. He has made it very clear that he doesn’t want a soulmate, and whether or not that happens to be Henry should make no difference.

But Christ, if the thought doesn’t hurt.

Alex’s face falls slightly before he leans back in his seat, his smile faltering on his face, “Thanks, Fox.”

“So…uh…burnt umber for…Christ, her name is Amber?”

“Yeah. Bit on the nose.” Alex’s voice is stilted, slightly awkward as he speaks, “She’s…interesting. Her and her soulmate met last year, at the wedding conference, no less.”

In normal circumstances, Henry would in no way link these events to himself. He is a regular man, who goes about his life normally. But, given how life seems to be aiming for his jugular at the moment, he has to ask.

“Is the groom’s name Hunter?”

“Yeah, how’d you guess?”

For fuck’s sake.

Chapter Text

Alex, of course, finds the entire thing hilarious.

“So let me get this straight,” He says one night, as if they haven’t dissected this a thousand times in the passing weeks, “we are making the wedding cake for your ex boyfriend and his soulmate who he cheated on you with?”

“Yes.” Henry says with a huff, legs crossed over each other as he tries to keep a stern look on his face, “Must we have this conversation every day, Alex?”

“Yes. So what are we doing to the cake?”

“Excuse me?”

“The cake.” Alex repeats slowly, sprawling himself across Henry’s couch like he belongs there. His arms stretch above his head, torturing Henry with the small sliver of skin on display at his stomach when his shirt rides up. Henry perches awkwardly on the armchair, “Poison it? Piss in the cake batter. Ooh, what if we c-“

“I beg you to not.” Henry says through gritted teeth, a laugh threatening to escape at the pout on Alex’s lips, “We will be doing nothing to this cake.” He flips the page in his sketchbook, tapping the pencil against his knee as he thinks, “Did he give any specifications?”

With only three weeks to the wedding, Henry wants it over and done with, having pushed it off for as long as possible. Even so, that has not stopped Alex from showing up at his house numerous nights a week with bags of takeaway and stories of bridezillas in the interim.

Alex snorts, sitting up and leaning over the arm of the chair until he’s closer to Henry, “According to Amber, he wants a football cake.”

“A football cake.” Henry repeats dryly, and why is he not surprised? “I didn’t realise it was his sixth birthday.”

“Hey, you’re the one that dated him.”

The words should sting, but they’re rather unfortunately true.

“Why did you?”

“Hm?” Henry jolts back to attention as Alex’s voice pierces his thoughts, “Why did I what?”

“Date him. You two don’t seem…compatible.”

Henry sits back on the chair, pulling his legs up until they’re close to his chest, “Honestly? I was having a rather rough go of it. My grandmother had recently passed and I wasn’t going home for the funeral. The day I met Hunter was my father’s anniversary so he caught me in a doubly vulnerable state. And he was…nice. Albeit a bit dim but…he liked me.”

“You didn’t want to be alone.” Coming from anyone else, it would sound like an insult, but something in Alex’s tone tells him this isn’t the case.

He sighs, remembering the day vividly, “Yes. I had lost hope of ever really finding my soulmate, convinced I’d left him back in England somewhere. The relationship was…easy.”

“Do you miss him?”

“No.” He answers instantly, a shudder running down his spine, “Christ no. I was never…invested like that. I didn’t love him but…him finding his soulmate, that somehow hurt more.”

He can hear the smile in Alex’s voice, but Henry keeps his gaze firmly trained on the blank page before him, “Why him and not you?”

Henry barks out a laugh despite himself, “Maybe. How nice would it be? To meet your soulmate at a literal wedding convent-“

He cuts himself off because, inadvertently, that is exactly what had happened to him. Yet his soulmate is blissfully unaware, mere feet from him with his lips pulled into a gorgeous smile that he just wants to sink his teeth into.

Alex doesn’t pipe up for a few moments, but when he does, the words pierce straight through him, “I know you said it’s complicated with your soulmate but…do you want him?”

Henry stiffens, “I would rather not talk about this anymore.”

“Hen-“

“So, a football cake? We could do something brown, maybe, with white trimmings.”

Alex blissfully does not change the subject back, and Henry waits until he leaves to let the tears fall.

💒🍰

The cake turns out beautifully, despite its quirks. They manage to make a stunning four tiered white wedding cake - with an American football sticking out the side of it. It’s whimsical, yet classical and when Alex emails Hunter the sketch, he replies with ‘😁👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻’.

He takes it as a win, watching carefully as Alex texts him back - as his unwitting soulmate texts his cheater ex-boyfriend about his wedding cake.

“You realise you’re living a rom com.” Pez says one night as they make their way through a lion's share of a case of wine, “You are helping plan your cheating ex boyfriend’s wedding with your soulmate who doesn’t know he’s your soulmate. That’s fucking comical, you know that?”

“Shut up.” Henry grumbles, lapping up the last droplets in his glass while David sleeps comfortably in his lap, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Have you been looking at your mark?”

Henry quickly shakes his head, “No, I’ve been using the patches.”

“Not even once?”

Curiosity, of course, has gotten the better of Henry every now and then. That morning, when he had been changing his soulpatch, he had glanced down to find something in lowercase scrawl.

henry.

What the hell did that even mean? His own name?

He was quick to slap a fresh patch over it, the skin burning beneath his fingertips, even through the patch, as though begging for him to trace his fingers along it.

“No.” He says shakily, ignoring the pointed look Pez is throwing at him in favour of grabbing a nearby bottle and taking a large swig, wincing as it goes down, “I haven’t.”

“You can’t not tell him forever. He’s your soulmate, Haz. He is inevitable.”

“Pez-“

“Nah, mate. You are not getting out of this one. He wants to be around you, he’s here half the bloody week. Clearly he feels something.”

“Whatever he feels about me doesn’t matter.” He grits out the words, “He doesn’t want a soulmate. He doesn’t want me.”

Each word is like a tiny knife digging further into his skin, the small voice in his head echoing the sentiment. Alex doesn’t want him. He isn’t enough. He will never have his soulmate.

The knowledge that he will never get to have what his parents have - or even what Philip has, is jarring. What is so wrong with him?

There is a human being out there that is happy to spend the rest of her life with a man who eats plain toast for breakfast, yet Henry’s own soulmate doesn’t even want him.

“Are you spiralling? Please don’t spiral while holding the wine, our couch can’t take the stains.”

“I’m not spiralling.” Henry lies as he absolutely, completely spirals, “I just don’t like talking about this. It gives me chest pains.”

“Because you’re yearning - for a man that you absolutely could have by the way.”

“No. I don’t quite think so.”

He thinks of Alex, uptown, in his own home. He wonders if he’s alone, soulpatch prominent on his chest. Henry wonders if he ever gets curious about the words on his skin, or who possibly could be writing them.

“He’s just…” He cuts himself off with a sigh, “He’s everything. And he genuinely doesn't want a soulmate. Ever. He’s made that very clear.”

“But what if he knew it was you? He deserves to be able to make that decision for himself.”

“More wine?” Henry says, sitting upright and jostling a disgruntled David in the process.

“Haz-“

“I’ll get another bottle.” He clambers to his feet, making his way quickly to the kitchen and ignoring the weight of Pez’s gaze on him.

It is not unreasonable for him to keep this to himself. Or at least, that’s what he tries to convince himself as the next bottle of wine completely drains.

“I think I’m in love with him.” Henry slurs, ‘love’ sounding more like ‘loaf’. His tongue feels heavy, his neck like wax as he attempts to crane it forward, “He’s so perfect. It makes him infuriating to me.”

“Oh Christ, you’re gone.”

“Eyelashes.” He murmurs with a sloppy smile, eyelids drooping closed as he speaks, “Eyelashes.”

💒🍰

He doesn’t dread the day of the wedding as much as he expected to. This is mostly in part to Alex, who has made an itemised list for the day.

“Number one,” Alex says as he leans over the counter in the bakery, Henry boxing up the cake, “you have to show up looking hot.” He trails his gaze up and down, making Henry flush, “Check. Number two, you are all smiles. Very happy for this couple. Three, your life is amazing, wonderful, and so fulfilling. You would hate if this was your life.”

“I would.” Henry shudders, “A football cake? Could you imagine?”

“More of a classic guy, are you?”

Henry smiles, finally meeting Alex’s gaze to see him smiling back, warm, soft and sleepy in the early morning light, “Yes. White three tier cake, flowers to accent it. I’ve always loved flowers.”

“I can see that. Very you.”

“What? Stuffy?”

Alex’s grin is genuine as he says, “Classic. You’re a classic.”

Henry can feel the slight tinge of his soulmark changing beneath the patch. He wonders how on earth he had missed it for days, when now every time it so much as falters he hones in on it instantly. It’s a warm feeling, slightly comforting, even given the circumstances.

“Thank you.” Henry says, albeit a bit awkwardly as he can feel the blush spreading across his cheeks. It seems to have become a staple in Alex’s presence. “Ready to go?”

classic. classic. classic. He doesn’t need to look, he can feel the words burned into the very core of him.

“Hop to it, blondie. We got a very weird social interaction to attend.”

Getting the cake uptown without it getting entirely trampled on the subway is a feat of its own. Henry stands with his back plastered to the wall while Alex stands guard, glaring at anyone that dares to come too close in the cramped car.

He takes the time to properly look at Alex - the man the universe has decided is his perfect match in every way. His eyes linger on the sharp edges of his jaw, the way he worries his lower lip between his teeth as his narrowed gaze darts around the subway car, as though daring someone to take a step closer to them. Henry notes the stretch of his shirt over toned biceps, firm shoulders and a button left opened to expose a sinful patch of collarbone.

His mind drifts back to the night on his couch, drunk and loose lipped. I'm in love with him. Even in the light of day, completely sober, he can’t shake the feeling that maybe he was being honest.

By the time they make their stop, Alex’s phone is buzzing relentlessly, then Henry’s when he doesn’t answer.

“Please tell me you have an ETA.” June pleads down the line as he answers, raising an eyebrow at Alex as he hoists the cake up high, “I cannot listen to Amber anymore.” Her voice drops to a low whisper, “Save yourselves. We are lost souls here.”

“We are on foot.” Henry says as he matches his pace to Alex’s, who is carrying the cake like it’s nothing, “Ten minutes tops.”

“Better be. I will not listen to these toasts alone, they are going to be horrific.” Slight shouts can be heard in the background and June curses under her breath, “Gotta go. Godspeed.”

Henry snorts, “She’s in hell, it seems.”

“Goodie, let’s join her then.” Alex shifts the cake in his arms, “I still cannot believe you managed to make it look like someone threw a football into this cake.”

“It was very fun, actually. The football is made of chocolate.” It had taken three days for him to carve out the space in the cake and make it actually fit without toppling over, each moment of it with Alex hovering over him and taking swipes of icing with his fingertip.

Alex tosses a wink over his shoulder, “If you see teeth marks in it, say nothing.”

“My lips are sealed.”

The wedding venue is exactly what Henry had expected from Hunter; massive, lavish, likely his father’s choice. One step inside and Henry feels vastly underdressed, and has the urge to roll down his sleeves and straighten his jacket. He makes eye contact with at least three hotel employees that seem to turn their noses up at him and he quickly drops his head to avoid a fourth.

“I feel like I’m going to get judged for using the wrong kind of fork.” Alex mutters as they shuffle through the grand hall, making their way towards the door at the end of the room that holds a sign - Hunter and Amber’s Special Day!

It’s only when Alex uses his shoulder to push the door open does Henry realise a few things in succession.

He is about to see his cheating ex

It is the first time he’s seen him since that day

He has to watch him give a wedding speech while Henry remains painfully single

Henry has somehow lost the breakup to fucking Hunter.

“Bzzz…” Alex murmurs lowly, just loud enough for Henry to pick up over the chatter in the room, “WASP alert. WASP alert.”

Henry’s laugh comes out in almost a bark, something he quickly muffles in the palm of his hand when a few heads dart around to look at them. The wedding is in full swing, people milling around as they wait for the bride and groom to make their rounds.

“Right let’s drop this off then I can go.” Henry begins leading Alex towards the cake stand near the top table, “And drown myself in my shower.”

“I think that would be hard. I could help if you’d prefer a waterboarding situation.” Alex chirps, slowly placing the cake down.

They tear down the sides of the box until there it stands, in all its glory . He’s rather proud of it and, had it been for anyone else's wedding, he would have requested his usual photoshoot for Instagram, which Pez carefully curates.

“Not fuckin’ bad, Fox.” Alex says fondly as they stand, shoulder to shoulder, “You did good.”

“Thank you.” Henry replies, feeling the familiar warmth creep up in his chest.

Pride was never an emotion Henry was very accustomed to growing up, but now? Looking at his creations? It makes up for years of feeling inadequate, lacking. He meets Alex’s eye to find the other man already grinning fondly at him, making his heart beat that bit faster inside of him.

“So, since we’re here-”

“H!” The voice immediately sends a shudder down his spine, the pronunciation of ‘aitch’ in that thick, American frat boy tone making his blood run cold.

“Fuck.” He mutters under his breath before plastering a false smile on his face as he turns to face him, “Hunter, hello. Congratulations to you both.”

His eyes immediately hone in on whatever the hell Hunter is wearing. He can hear a choked off laugh to his side as Alex also turns to face the couple. Hunter’s arms are completely exposed as he wears what seems to be a white button up without the sleeves, paired with a black tunic and a ghastly bright white bow tie. His bride stands with her arm looped through his, her hair pulled back into a high ponytail, her dress a classic mermaid.

“Fuckin’ ace, H! This cake is unbelievable! Did you see it babe? Is that a real football?” He immediately bounds forward, wrapping Henry in a hug that is tight enough to push the air from his lungs. He awkwardly lets the other man hold him like a boa restrictor before releasing him, letting out a long breath when his ribs go back to their usual positions.

“No, Hunter, it isn’t a real football.” He says calmly.

“You both - and Jane, have done an amazing job today!” Amber says with a squeal, her voice much more high pitched than he had been expecting.

Henry tries to meet her eyes and immediately falls, the only thing coming to mind is the last time he saw her, her legs up in the air with her head pressed against his bloody pillow. Alex is practically pressed to his side, their hands brushing as Henry curls his fingers outward, letting them lay limp.

“It’s June.” Alex corrects after an awkward silence, “And thank you.”

“Great!” Hunter says, his eyes repeatedly darting to the cake, his tongue peeking out from his lips, “Looking forward to this cake. Mhm.”

Henry cringes as Hunter practically drools over the cake, his upper half subconsciously leaning towards it.

“Well, we have more people to greet. Please stay, enjoy the party!” Amber says with a beaming smile that looks like it hurts, “Bye!” The sound of her voice as she stretches out the ‘e’ echoes as she drags Hunter away, making him stumble over his own feet as he was nearly embedded inside the cake.

“Holy fucking shit.” Alex says, sputtering out a laugh, “That was fucking amazing. I have peaked. Did you see his fucking suit?”

“He looks like he got lost leaving a Halloween party.” Henry says, unable to suppress his smile, shoulders shaking, “Jesus Christ. I feel much better now.”

“Was that in question before?”

“A little. Showing up to your ex’s wedding while you’re still painfully single is a bit of a sore spot.”

“Painfully?”

“Horrifically.” Henry snorts, before realising exactly who he’s saying this to.

“Says the man who doesn’t want his soulmate.” Alex’s voice is bitter, making Henry turn to fully face him.

He frowns at Alex’s indignant, almost angry tone. He finds it very bloody ironic, “Um…says you? You don’t want a soulmate.”

“Well, since we’re on the fucking subject-”

“There you two are!” June practically bounds towards them, grabbing each of them by the arm and beginning to drag them away before either of them can protest, “A bridesmaid and I have made a drinking game out of their wedding speeches, are you in?”

“Oh,” Henry says, slightly defeated. He keeps looking to Alex, wondering what the hell was he about to say, but the other man won’t so much as look at him, “I was going to leave-”

“Not a chance. If we’re stuck here, so are you.” June sticks out her tongue at him.

“Partners, remember?” Alex pipes up quietly as June shows them to their table.

Henry would prefer if the ground opened up beneath them and swallowed them whole.

“Partners.” He echoes hollowly.

💒🍰

He hates to admit it, loathes it really, but Henry is having fun at his ex’s wedding.

“And then,” Alex slurs, one hand smacking down against the table top as he leans in close. He smells like whiskey and cologne and Henry nearly has an aneurysm holding himself back from taking a deep inhale, “she left him at the altar!”

“No!” Henry gasps as June nods along, “After all that?”

“It gets worse. Guess who she ran away with?”

“Do not say the unc-“

“The uncle!” Alex finished with a flourish, throwing himself back in his chair and downing the last gulp of whiskey in his glass, “I will never forget that day.”

The wedding is in full swing around them, a very loud remix of Despacito blaring as the bride and groom grind on the dancefloor. Henry pays them no notice, the trio nestled away at their table in the corner, laughing loud enough to be heard over the music.

His smile feels loose, his head lolling back, cheek pressed to his palm. He’s happy. At one point of the night his legs splayed out beneath the table, his foot catching Alex’s leg. Alex had sent him a grin before hooking their legs together, where they still remain tangled beneath the orange tablecloth.

Before any of them can say more, a loud clanging sound reverberates around the room as the music goes down drastically. Henry glances away from Alex’s smile to see Hunter and Amber standing at the top table, Hunter smacking his glass against the table to get everyone’s attention.

“Hey bitches!” At his words, the crowd goes wild, hollering and smacking the tables with their fists, “It’s time for the best part of the night…”

As he trails off, the groomsmen begin chanting speech bitch, speech bitch.

“I feel like I’m in a frat party fever dream.” Henry mutters, eyes widening as Alex leans further into his space.

Without his notice, Alex’s chair has scooted until they’re pressed together, the tips of their shoulders knocking together as he leans in close.

“Just think, this could have all been yours.” He murmurs, low into his ear, making him shudder.

“You’re a fucking prick.” Henry says, but keeps a sweet smile on his face.

Alex’s expression briefly falters, smile dropping before it’s back with a force, though it doesn’t make his eyes crinkle the way it normally does. The sight makes a hollow ache form in Henry’s chest but before he can comment on it, Hunter is yelling into his microphone.

Hunter begins speaking with a shit eating grin, “One year ago today, I went to the most boring fucking convention of my life. I mean seriously, a fucking snooze fest. Who wants to go talk about weddings for an entire goddamn weekend?”

Henry bristles in his seat and he can feel Alex’s gaze boring into the side of his head - one he refuses to meet.

“I was bored out of my mind. All alone. Wishing I had stayed home when I go up to the bar, order the biggest beer they have, and get served by the sexiest woman I have ever fucking seen.”

Amber titters in her seat, hand covering her mouth, her ring clearly visible even from the back of the room. Henry is hyper aware of Alex’s presence by his side, his shoulder pressing more firmly into his own, as though reminding him he’s here.

“Love at first sight. Took twenty minutes before I convinced her to come back to my room.” At the sounds of wolf whistles, Hunter raises his drink with a grin, “Imagine my surprise when we finish and I roll over to see so fucking hot written across her boobs!”

Everyone descends into chaos but Henry is frozen, drink clenched in hand as he just stares blankly. He thinks Alex may be speaking to him but he can’t even process it over one simple thing.

He didn’t know they were soulmates.

The one thing Henry had been convinced of, that Hunter had been so caught up in meeting his soulmate that he couldn’t wait - was false.

Hunter was just a cheating prick who happened to shag his soulmate.

His chair is scraping back before he even realises he’s standing, Alex’s hand reaching for him but he turns, making his way out of the room without looking back.

The cool air hitting his skin is the only thing to snap him out of his stupor, so he does the first thing that comes to mind - he kicks a lamp post.

It feels cathartic for a moment, until his toes burn in protest. He slumps against it with a sigh, tilting his chin up to the sky. The stars are barely visible, drowned out in the lights of New York, but the comfort they bring remains even so. His foot still throbs inside of his shoe.

“Hen?”

Henry shakes his head, keeping his gaze trained firmly on the tiniest twinkles he can make out, his heart slowing to a depressed thud in his chest.

“Hen, come on.”

“Don’t.” He manages to say, his voice wavering, “Please, Alex.”

Ignoring his words, he can sense Alex coming closer, the sounds of his shoes quiet against the pavement.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…” Henry huffs out a breath, clenching his eyes shut for a brief moment before peeling them back open, “He didn’t cheat on me with his soulmate.”

“What-“

“He cheated on me. Then realised she was his soulmate.”

“Oh.”

“And I don’t care about that - genuinely I don’t care if he lives or dies but…it says a lot doesn’t it?”

“Does it?” Alex is painfully close now, his breath cold in the air, hitting the back of his neck.

“About me. If I can’t even keep someone like Hunter interested.”

“Come on, Hen. He’s a fucking jerk. You know that had nothing to do with you.”

“It doesn’t feel that way.” He pauses, stretching his stiff fingers, frozen from the cold, “It feels like I’m meant to be alone.”

“You’re not-“

“I know I’m not alone. I have wonderful friends, Pez, June, you. But in the way that everyone else gets to have someone, I’m never going to have it.”

It feels nice to be able to say it out loud, his mind only slightly clouded by drink, to the exact person he needs to hear it most. He knows Alex is oblivious to the truth, the bulge of his soulpatch beneath his shirt had been visible to Henry for the entire night.

So either he knows and definitely doesn’t want Henry or he doesn’t know and he doesn’t want the idea of him.

He isn’t quite sure which is worse.

“For fuck’s sake Henry, if you’d just let me speak-“

“Oh, hey guys!”

For fuck’s sake.

“Hunter.” Alex says blankly.

“Hello, Hunter.” Henry says placidly as he turns to face the pair.

Alex looks pained, his expression pulled tight. Hunter is leaning against the building, a gaudy looking vape device in hand that he takes a long puff from, blowing weird shapes in their general direction.

“Having fun?” Hunter’s face is bright, almost sweet as he clearly cannot read the room even slightly.

“A ball.” Alex says dryly, his eyes darting over to Henry as he speaks.

Henry tries to not look back.

Hunter, not sensing the sarcasm, grins even wider, “Amazing fucking night. Thank you guys for the cake and the wedding.” His head tilts to the side like a confused looking puppy, gaze fixed on Henry, “You didn’t bring anyone, H?”

It takes a very large amount of self restraint to not do something utterly insane like scream or smack the vape from Hunter’s hand. Instead, he breathes out a laugh and opens his mouth to speak.

“I’m his soulmate.” Alex says, and Henry’s world tilts on his axis entirely.

“No fucking way.” Hunter says around a cloud of smoke, “How’d that fucking happen?”

Henry is barely listening over the roaring of blood in his ears, eyes trained on Alex and trying to grasp where the hell this could be going.

“We worked together for a wedding before this one.” Alex continues as if Henry’s heart hasn’t completely stopped in his chest, like his eyes aren’t bulging out of his skull and his jaw isn’t at his feet, “Realised when I looked down and my chest said bloody prick across it.”

Henry knows he should chime in, say that Alex is making a joke but it’s too real. The words he has been longing to hear for months now are being thrown out like they’re nothing. It’s too real, it’s too much. He thinks he may be sick.

Alex is grinning, wide and open but his eyes are glinting with mischief, as if this is a joke.

He supposes, in an entirely roundabout way, that it is. The joke, as always, seems to be on Henry as he watches the likely love of his life lie to his cheating ex-boyfriend. Except he’s not actually lying, he just doesn’t know it.

His head hurts.

“Wow, I never would have guessed. You two, huh?” Hunter nods sagely, eyes narrowing at them, “Colour me surprised.”

“And why is that?” Alex asks defensively while Henry wonders where the hell Hunter managed to learn that phrase, “We are literally a perfect fit.”

“Are we?” Henry asks without thinking, shrinking back as Alex shoots him a warning look, “I mean…yes. Love at first sight, if you will.”

Something about his words makes Alex’s shoulders stiffen, almost reaching his ears, but his smile remains wide, trained completely on Hunter who looks just about as confused as he always does.

“Good for you guys, I guess. I’m gonna see if I can score some cake.” Hunter snorts, “Score. Get it?” He turns and walks back into the building without waiting for an answer, leaving Alex and Henry, once again, alone in the cold.

“Hen-”

“What the hell was that?” Henry explodes, every ounce of frustration and confusion and downright fear pouring out of him, “Why did you say that to him?”

“Sorry for saving you!” Alex says with a disbelieving laugh, throwing up a hand before dragging it roughly through his hair, snagging on his curls, “Fuck me, you were the one freaking out all night about him thinking you’re single!”

“I didn’t ask you to do anything! And hell, you could have said you were my boyfriend, did you have to go directly to soulmate?”

“So fucking ungrateful, I can’t believe you!”

“I can’t believe you.”

“Asshole.”

“Prick.”

“Jerk.”

“Bell-end.”

They’re toe to toe now, Henry slightly towering over Alex as they stand face to face. Their chests are heaving, eyes narrowed as neither of them take a step back.

And then they’re kissing.

Henry gasps into the contact as Alex lunges upwards, immediately tangling one of his hands in blond locks and tugging. Their lips move together effortlessly, the kiss much more gentle than the beginning of it. Alex presses in firmly, lips soft and pliant beneath his own and Henry isn’t entirely certain that he didn’t freeze to death out in the cold and this is a very odd end of life dream.

He exhales sharply, the night air cool against his cheeks as Alex’s lips part beneath his. His hand shakily rises to grip Alex’s cheek, pulling them closer together. Alex’s tongue slides against his and Henry can’t hold back the weak moan that escapes his lips, fingers curling into the hair at the tip of Alex’s temples.

It’s too much but it’s not enough. Every nerve in his body is screaming at him for more, to press in closer, to drag Alex closer until he’s embedded beneath his skin. He imagines what it would be like to feel Alex’s fingertips drag across his soulmark.

When they part to breathe, he can hear the almost silent whimper leave Alex’s lips as they move instinctually forward, chasing Henry’s. The sight makes his knees shake.

“I…you…”

“We should probably talk about this.” Alex says, his voice much steadier than Henry knows his own will be.

He knows he can’t blame the alcohol for his next words, only the daze that comes from Alex’s lips being so close to his own, “Or…”

Alex raises an eyebrow, “Or?”

“You could come home. With me.” He mentally pats himself on the back for getting the words out with relative ease.

For a moment, they stand in complete silence. The sounds of partying are muffled out here and Henry is more focused on the sound of his own breaths leaving him. Alex’s eyes are wide, perfect molton brown that Henry wants to delve deeper into. He can’t read the emotion in them but he feels a sort of kinship.

Alex looks vulnerable, afraid. Exactly how Henry has been feeling since the moment they met.

“Okay.” Alex says eventually, “Take me home.”

💒🍰

It’s a lot less…rushed, than Henry had expected. The journey back is mostly silent, Alex tapping away on his phone as he lets June know they haven’t entirely abandoned her - though they absolutely have.

They don’t hold hands, they don’t exchange sweet nothings, they just stand together in the subway, arms pressed together from shoulder to wrist, pointedly looking anywhere but at each other.

For the first time in likely months, Henry’s brain isn’t going a mile a minute. It’s calm, a low buzz beneath the surface, utterly blissful. It feels like for the first time, he is doing something completely right. That he’s supposed to be doing.

His hands tremble and he misses the keyhole for his apartment on his first attempt, completely aware of Alex mere inches from him. Finally the door swings open and he lets them in, awkwardly waving Alex forward before gently closing the door behind them.

David doesn’t move from his perch on the couch, happily snuffling. There’s a post it taped to his collar that reads Out, don’t wait up babes xx

They’re alone, likely all night.

Then. There’s no ripping of clothes, no desperate lunging; they just stare at each other. A moment passes, then another.

“We should really talk about this.” Alex says, taking a careful step forward, his voice hoarse.

“Does it have to be now?”

Any moment he can pretend the inevitable isn’t happening is one he will hold onto with both hands.

Alex eyes him carefully, taking another minute step forward, putting him directly in Henry’s bubble, “You promise we’ll talk? Tomorrow?”

“Yes.” Henry says. He just wants to have this, before everything comes crumbling down around him.

He’s going to have to tell Alex the truth, he knows this, but he just wants one night.

One night where his soulmate wants him.

Alex stares at him for another beat, and right as Henry opens his mouth to ask if he’s alright, Alex is up on his tiptoes and pressing their mouths together in a kiss.

He relaxes into it this time, hands immediately flying up to cup Alex’s cheeks, pulling him closer. Alex’s hands grip almost desperately at his waist, fingers digging into the material of his button up. He begins to hike up the material, his hands burning hot against Henry’s already flushed skin.

Henry begins walking them backwards, hands falling to Alex’s shoulders, their lips never parting. Alex grunts as he slightly stumbles over the carpet. The action makes both of them burst into giggles, breaking apart.

“Alright, we don’t need any concussions.” Henry says softly, reaching down to grab one of Alex’s hands, “Come on, Romeo.”

Alex happily follows, his hand squeezing Henry’s as he tugs him into his bedroom. His bed is thankfully made, his curtains drawn from his rush to leave that morning.

“This makes a lot of sense.” Alex says as he kicks off his shoes, nudging them into the corner of the room. Henry’s eyes hone in on his waist as Alex unbuckles his belt, pulling it free from the loops.

“Why do I feel like I’m being insulted?”

“Never, baby.” The term on endearment likely makes Henry look like a fire hydrant, given how visceral his internal reaction is to the one word, “Baby, huh? Noted.”

“You’re a plague.” Henry states as he begins to unbutton his shirt, “An absolute menace.”

“Ooh, yeah, talk dirty to me.” Alex tosses his shirt over the back of Henry’s desk chair.

Henry’s eyes immediately hone in on the soulpatch on his chest, stark white against his skin. He imagines the words Absolute Menace plastered beneath it.

“I swear to fucking God, Alex.”

“Ugh, yeah, swear some more.” His pants go next, joining his shirt.

Henry bursts out in a laugh, his shirt completely open and hanging loosely from his shoulders. Alex joins him, taking a step closer into his space and gently nudging the fabric off. Henry lets the fabric fall down his arms, leaving him in his pants and Alex in his boxers.

“I feel very exposed here.” Alex murmurs, finger trailing along Henry’s stomach, right at the waistband of his pants, “It’s awfully lonely when you’re wearing pants.”

“Go lie down, you reprobate.” Henry snarks, pushing his chest lightly.

Alex happily complies, starfishing on Henry’s bed in only his boxers, looking so at home that it hurts Henry to the very core of his being.

Henry takes off his own trousers, laying them across Alex’s own clothes. Before he can second guess himself, overthink everything to death like he knows he’s about to do, he makes his way towards the bed.

Even from his position, Henry feels trapped by Alex’s gaze, his dark irises watching every move he makes towards him. When he reaches the edge of the bed, Alex’s arm reaches out, gripping the top of his thigh and squeezing pointedly. Henry doesn’t move and Alex scoffs, using his grip to yank him forward, making him fall in a pile of limbs on top of the other man.

“Someone’s impatient.” Henry murmurs as he straddles Alex’s waist, their clothed cocks brushing together. Alex lets out a choked sound from the back of his throat and Henry grins, “Eager?”

“Extremely. Get to fuckin, please and thanks.” Alex says with an impish grin, his fingers settling on the waistband of Henry’s boxers.

He freezes, briefly, as he remembers the soulpatch hiding beneath his boxers. Alex’s face shifts into an expression that melts Henry’s insides, soft concern that makes his brow furrow.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Henry forces a smile onto his face, “Promise.”

“Do you want this, Henry?”

“Yes.”

“Hundred percent?”

The words leave him in a rush, too quick for him to think, “More than anything.”

Alex nods, his expression still not as elated as it was, “And you’ll stop me if you don’t?”

“Scouts honour.” Henry makes a mock salute with three fingers, which manages to bring the smile back to Alex’s face. His hand reaches up, fingertips gently brushing Henry’s cheek, a featherlight touch that has him leaning into the contact.

“Kiss me.” Alex murmurs, a soft smile on his lips that he can’t resist.

It’s slow, sensuous, and a surefire way for Henry to lose his mind entirely. Each sound that he coaxes from Alex’s lips settles deep in his core, where he knows they will replay on a loop long after the other man leaves his bed, leaving him far behind.

“What do you want?” Henry breathes against his lips, cock straining against the fabric of his boxers.

Alex, leaning against the headboard with Henry in his lap, bites down on his lower lip, drawing a gasp from him, “Can I fuck you?”

“Yes.” Henry gasps as Alex’s hands grip his hips tightly, fingers pressing into the soft spot beside his stomach, “Please.”

“So polite.”

Henry tries not to clench his eyes shut as he and Alex take off their boxers. He tries not to look down, to draw attention to the patch on his skin. But Alex’s eyes hone in on it instantly, widening at the sight of it.

“Never heard of a soulmark on your dick.” He says casually, then sighs, something harrowing about it that once again makes Henry wonder if he knows, “We really need to talk.”

But why would he say nothing if he knows?

“I know. We will.”

Alex’s eyes search his for a moment, narrowed and intent before he nods, muttering something under his breath before yanking him back down for another soul shattering kiss.

Henry ends up splayed flat on his back, limbs spread at all angles as he writhes against the bedspread, back arching as Alex’s fingers press further inside him. He presses insistently, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in a way that should not be as effortlessly adorable as it is, his eyes firmly fixed on Henry’s hole as he does.

He whines as Alex slides in a third finger, crooking them at the exact angle to press against his prostate, his hips bucking against the pressure. The familiar heat in his lower abdomen is building up impossibly fast and his hand flies out to close around Alex’s wrist, keeping him in place.

“Okay, baby?”

Henry clenches his eyes briefly shut with a moan, “This is about to be over very quickly.”

“What do you want?” The question, although innocent in nature, is asked with a devilish grin, as though he knows exactly what Henry wants.

“Fuck me.” He grits out, unintentionally clenching around Alex’s fingers, holding them there.

“Hmm…”

“Please.” Henry tries, knowing how desperate he sounds but is unable to care.

“Okay, baby.” Alex says with certainty, slowly pulling his fingers out, shushing him gently as Henry whines from the loss, his hole clenching around air.

His hips writhe of their own accord, desperately seeking friction against his weeping cock, pressed hard against his abdomen.

“So fuckin’ beautiful.” Alex says as he rolls on a condom and Henry wants to cry at the thought of that plastered across his skin. He almost wishes Alex would never speak again, never allow it to change until he says, “So fuckin’ perfect.”

“Alex.” He gasps, head tilting back and pressing into the pillow as Alex settles between his thighs, palms pressing down to keep them spread apart, “Don’t make me beg.”

“As much as I would love to hear that, sweetheart.” Alex croons, moving in closer, “Maybe that’s best saved for next time.”

“Next - oh.” He cuts himself off with a gasp that sounds more like a whine as Alex presses inside. He’s slow enough that Henry locks his ankles around his waist, trying to press him further inside.

But Alex doesn’t take the bait, keeping at his slow pace, opening him up inch by delicious inch as Henry can do nothing but lie there and take it.

“Fuck.” Alex finally says, while Henry feels like the air has been punched out of his chest, “Fuck.”

He doesn’t move, completely pressed inside of him and Henry closes his eyes and revels in the feeling of connection. It’s been said that sex with your soulmate is different - better because you are wholly connected, but Henry had always thought it was propaganda.

Turns out, it is very much true.

“Holy shit.” Alex says as he experimentally thrusts his hips, the movement enough to make Henry’s back arch almost entirely off the mattress, Alex’s hands on his hips keeping him grounded, “You’re…I…fuck.”

“So good with words.” Henry mutters, almost dozily, as his brain attempts to piece together just about anything.

“Very. Fucking. Funny. Fox.” He punctuates each of his words with a thrust that has Henry moaning loud enough that he prays Pez doesn’t come home, his fingers scrabbling in the sheets and grounding him as Alex’s thrusts become relentless.

Every inch of him is on fire, a thrumming electricity that he has never felt before, starting at his toes and taking him over entirely. All he can think about, all he can feel is heat and warmth and Alex washing over him like a tsunami of pleasure that he never wants to end.

He clenches around Alex’s length, dragging him further inside and making him swear underneath his breath. Henry’s own hands rise to his chest, twisting his nibbles between the pads of his fingers and letting out a soft sigh at the tingle it sends through him.

“Yeah, baby. Touch yourself for me.” Alex grits out, leaning further into Henry’s space, making the angle that much deeper that Henry barely holds himself back from coming on the spot.

He twists harder, the sharp tinge only bringing him more pleasure and by the time he manages to peel his heavy eyelids open, Alex is staring down at him with fire in his eyes. His hand reaches out for Henry’s thigh, unlocking his ankles from each other and pressing his right thigh down against the bed.

Henry practically screams as the angle sends Alex pressing directly into his prostate, his teeth sinking into his lower lip until a tangy metallic taste bursts through his senses.

With a shaky hand he reaches down for his cock, loosely running his hand down it, “Close.”

Alex grunts in response, leaning further into Henry’s space until their chests are almost plastered together. Henry can hear the little uh uh noises being practically dragged out of him with each thrust, his hand tightening on his cock as his thumb brushes against the moisture gathering at the tip.

“Alex please.” The words sound closer to sobs but he’s so on the precipice he just needs something to get him over the edge.

“Oh fuck. Yeah. Fuck. Come for me, baby. I’m so fucking close, just need to feel you coming. Please, so fucking gorgeous. So fucking perfect.”

And Henry is gone, crashing over the edge with a moan that makes his ears ring, working himself through the aftershocks as Alex keeps fucking him.

Finally, almost regrettably, Alex comes inside him with a low moan, bracing himself with a hand on either side of Henry’s head as he lets go of his leg. Said legs feel entirely like jelly as Henry lies flat, staring up at Alex whose eyes are clenched shut, his breathing heavy and his forehead lined with sweat.

“Fucking hell, baby.” Alex eventually grits out, voice low and gravelly in a way that makes Henry wish he wasn’t so utterly exhausted, “That was amazing. You are amazing.”

Henry smiles, albeit a bit dopily, as he struggles to keep his eyes open, the day finally catching up with him.

“Oh,” Alex says softly, “you are barely awake. Fucked you to sleep, did I?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Henry murmurs, eyes sliding shut, “I’ve had a long day.”

“Yes you have. Go to sleep, Hen. I’ll clean us up.”

As thoughtful as the gesture is, he would have been stuck doing it anyway as Henry is asleep before Alex has even pulled out of him.

💒🍰

Beep! Beep! Beep!

“Pez,” Henry grunts, arm reaching out for his phone, slapping against his nightstand with his eyes still closed, “Pez, stop beeping at me.”

His arm can’t reach any further and he frowns, until he registers the weight around his waist, the warm hand pressed to the skin of his stomach, firmly keeping him in place.

His eyes snap open, “Shit.”

“Huh?” Alex grumbles, still flat on his stomach, arm pulling Henry closer, “Timeszit?”

“I don’t know.” Henry reaches forward as much as Alex will allow, managing to wrap his fingers around his phone and shutting his alarm off, “Shit. We’re late.”

Alex bolts upright almost comically, his curls entirely wild around his face as he gapes at Henry, eyes darting between him and the phone, “How late?”

“Very. We need to go. Now.” Henry is already out of the bed, yanking Alex’s arm off of him and ignoring the pang it sends through him to do so.

He thought he would at least be able to enjoy his afterglow before losing Alex in his bed entirely.

“I thought we were going to talk.” Alex’s voice is small, almost timid as he speaks to Henry’s turned back.

“We will.” Henry insists, pulling on the first pair of pants he yanks from his wardrobe, “We just don’t have time. June is going to kill us.”

The answer still makes Alex frown, a deep set one that dims his entire face but Henry doesn’t have time to focus on the fact that he is going to have a horrific conversation with Alex.

He still can’t figure out if he knows. Sometimes, for a brief moment, it seems as though he does, but Henry can’t shake the feeling that he’s clueless.

Why would he sleep with Henry if he knew? If he doesn’t want his soulmate?

By the time they’re dressed and about to leave, Alex has fallen entirely silent. Henry scratches David behind the ears, hearing Pez’s loud snores in the next room as they leave, closing the door behind them.

“Are you alright?” He asks as they leave the building, unable to take the tense silence any longer.

“Yeah.” Alex mutters, kicking a pebble with his shoe, “Fine.”

“Alex…”

“You said we would talk.”

“We will. But not when we’re late and about to be murdered by your sister.” Said sister has left six missed calls and ten text messages in the last half hour, three of which reading ‘!!!?!’.

“You promise?”

Henry glances at him, Alex already staring directly at him, brown eyes wide and pleading. He sighs, resigning himself to his fate.

“I promise.”

It’s going to be a horrific, if not downright painful conversation. But Henry has to tell him.

“Well, well, well.” June is standing in his bakery when they arrive, hands on her hips and sunglasses perched on her head, “Look who’s alive.”

“Bug-“

“June-“

“I thought maybe when you both disappeared you were back to your old ways, fighting again.” She leans against the counter, folding her arms, “Seems like you did a very different F word.”

“Bug!” Alex hisses, cheeks flaring pink, “Would you stop?”

“Did you two finally talk?” She asks instead, eyes focusing on Henry.

“Not yet.” Alex grits out, “Later.”

“Later.” She echoes, raising an eyebrow and Henry nods, “Tienes que hablar con él y dile la verdad.”

Henry stares at them blankly as Alex glares at his sister, “I will. Now. Can we talk about last night then?”

“Yes, actually.” June cranes her body around before turning back, envelope in hand, “They very much had a great night. Hunter tried to pull the football out of the cake and knocked it over himself. It was life changing. But, they gave us this check.”

She passes the envelope to Alex who opens it, jaw immediately dropping as his head snaps back to June, “You’re fucking joking.”

“What is it?” He tries to peek at the check but Alex’s hands are trembling.

“Ten grand.”

“Ha ha. What is it?”

“It’s ten grand.” June supplies cheerily as Alex continues to gape.

“What the fuck?”

“I don’t understand.” Henry says, “We agreed on five?”

“Well, Hunter was very drunk. Amber was very drunk. And he slurred something about being happy for you and your soulmate before trying to tuck this into my bra. So I feel like that alone is worth the extra five grand.” She says.

The three of them grimace in unison.

“Speaking of soulmates-“

“Deje de!” Alex snaps, as Henry watches them once again cluelessly.

The words make June freeze, staring at Alex and leaving Henry to witness them having a conversation with their eyes.

“I pretended to be Henry’s soulmate to get Hunter to back off.” Alex says, very slowly, as though trying to get something through in his words.

“Oh.” June nods, face pinched, “Totally normal thing to do.”

“Yep. That’s why I did it. Now. We have to meet with Anna at noon, yes?”

“Yes, and Henry-“

“Her fiancé is coming here in a half hour to discuss cake options.” Henry says, finally snapping back into work mode.

His head is still entirely jumbled, not fully grasping what his life has turned into in the space of twelve hours.

“Right. Then Alex and I will be off. We have much to discuss.” June pushes away from the counter, patting Henry’s cheek almost patronisingly as she brushes past him with a wink.

“I’ll uh…text you?”

“Sounds good.” Henry says stiffly, forcing a smile onto his face.

Alex’s looks just as forced.

💒🍰

Alex

just need to shower. come over after?

Henry

Alright. I need to meet with Pez and give him a house key first, he’s gotten locked out.

It’s a blatant lie, one Henry hopes he won’t see through. Pez wears his keys, in his own words, like a lesbian - on a carabiner attached to his belt loops. You are more likely to hear Pez before you see him, and that says a lot given the current luminous colour of his hair and clothes to match.

He slams the front door behind him as Pez lounges on the couch upside down, flicking through a magazine.

“Why are you upside down?”

“It’s called Batting.” Pez says without missing a beat, turning the page, “Vogue said it’s good for circulation.”

“That can’t be true.”

“It’s in Vogue, Haz. I would bet my first born on it.”

“God forbid you reproduce.” Henry huffs, throwing himself into the adjoining armchair with a loud sigh, throwing his head back. When Pez turns another page, Henry sighs louder.

“Yes, dear?” Pez asks dryly, “What is it now? Alex’s skin glinted just so in the moonlight?”

“I suppose it did. When we shagged.”

He feels almost bad for how Pez slips, landing on his head with a yelp. David dashes to his side, licking his forehead to rescue him from the pain. By the time Pez sits upright, Henry’s lips are pressed together to suppress a laugh.

“Elaborate. In detail. Immediately.” Pez steeples his fingers together in a rather accurate Mr Burns impression.

“We went home from the wedding together and shagged.”

“That is not detail.”

“How about how he fingered me until.”

Pez blinks slowly, “If you were expecting me to interrupt you there, you picked the wrong bitch.”

Henry groans, “I forgot you’re weirdly invested in my sex life.”

“I am invested like a dear friend who wishes for you to be shagged and often, by someone who knows how.”

“Do not desecrate Gone With The Wind.”

“Oh Scarlett-“

“Pez,” Henry practically whines, watching as his friend’s expression shifts to something more serious, “He wants to talk. What should I do?”

“Now, this may be crazy-“

“Pez-“

“Absolutely scandalous almost. But I need you to hear me out-“

“Pez-“

“What if…you talked to him.”

“I can’t.” Henry admits, voice small, “Because I’m going to have to tell him that we’re soulmates. And he’s going to tell me that it was fun but he doesn’t want a soulmate.”

“Maybe it’s changed?”

“The mindset he’s had since he was fourteen? I doubt it. His parents' marriage was a trainwreck, Pez. And they were soulmates. Who’s to say we wouldn’t be the same…or worse?”

“Either way, you don’t get to make that decision for him, Haz.” Pez’s expression is soft, something Henry rarely witnesses from him, not a grin in sight, “You need to talk to him. Whatever you decide to do, you need to decide together.”

“I know. I just can’t today. I need some space before everything comes crumbling down.” His face crumples and he rubs a harsh hand across his eyes, “I think he might be the love of my life, Pez.”

“Soulmates tend to be.” Pez hums, “Would you like to watch a movie while you think about what you’re going to say?”

“I would like that very much.”

“Only if you promise to talk to him.”

“Promise.”

Pez’s grin is back, “Wanna watch Gone With The Wind?”

Henry sighs, “Yes. I do.”

💒🍰

Alex

hey, where are u?

Alex

everything okay?

Alex

we seriously need to fucking talk. like now

Alex

you can’t just ignore me

Henry

So sorry, something has come up. Will talk to you on Monday.

Alex

it’s fucking saturday??????

Alex

henry?????

Alex

you’ve left me no fucking choice, fox

💒🍰

He should have expected Alex pounding down his front door at one in the morning.

“Well,” Pez says, stretching his arms above his head and scratching the back of his neck, “I best be off to bed. Try not to shag too loud, would you?”

“There will be no shagging.” Henry hisses.

“Open the fucking door, Fox!”

“Right. Come on, Davie, hop to it. Night babes.” Like the traitor he is, David trots along after Pez, tail wagging cheerfully as he does.

Then Henry is left alone in his living room, the sound of Alex’s knocks reverberating around his home. With a long suffering sigh, he climbs up from the couch, the credits rolling for the movie behind him.

When he opens the door awkwardly, Alex’s fist is poised midair, as if about to knock.

“Hello.”

“You’re a fucking asshole.” Alex says plainly, one arm behind his back, the other falling to his side.

“I know.” He can’t even dispute it, “I’m sorry.”

“You should be. Here.” Alex’s other hand comes out from behind his back, holding a small bouquet of orange roses, “I got these for you before you decided to ghost me.”

“Alex-“

“Let’s get this over with.” Alex sighs, pushing gently past him and letting himself into the apartment.

“I really am sorry. I just needed…time before having this conversation with you.” He stands awkwardly in the entryway, roses clutched to his chest.

“This conversation.” Alex says flatly, “Just what every man wants to hear from his soulmate.”

Henry frowns, “That joke isn’t funny.”

Alex rolls his eyes, folding his arms and levelling him with an impressive glare, “Wasn’t joking, sweetheart.”

Henry’s blood stills, his heart stops beating, his entire being ceases to exist.

“Oh.”

“Oh.” Alex mocks, “Are we seriously doing this?”

“Doing what?”

Alex looks exasperated, “You’re really going to pretend you don’t know?”

“I know.” Henry points to himself almost dumbly, before pointing at Alex, “But I thought you didn’t know.”

This stops Alex in his tracks, his eyebrows raising minutely, “Huh. That actually makes a lot of sense.”

“How long have you known?”

“The night of Alicia’s wedding. I went to shower when I got home and changed my patch. I then got treated to the words bloody prick on a good day plastered across my chest.”

“Oh.” He needs to sit down, his legs shaking at the sudden onslaught of realisation.

Alex has known the whole time.

“You’ve known the whole time.” He echoes, sitting on the arm of the couch, flowers still held closely, “And you said nothing.”

“Neither did you.” Alex says, “Every time I dared to check my mark it was something like prick or infuriating or insane. I got the message loud and fucking clear. You didn’t want me.”

“Clearly you didn’t check often enough.”

Alex looks at him carefully, as though thinking through his options before speaking, “And what does that mean?”

“You know what it means, Alex.” He can feel the tears burning behind his eyes, “Why do you think I wear a patch? My marks made no bloody sense. Infuriatingly oblivious? One of them just said Henry? What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means you’re Henry.” Alex says, like it’s obvious, “My Henry.”

He clenches his eyes shut for a brief second, exhaling sharply through his nose, “I’m not your anything, Alex.”

“You’re my soulmate.”

“Don’t be pedantic. Right. So how are we doing this?”

“…Doing this?”

Henry hasn’t even noticed him moving, but Alex is now towering over him, forehead creasing as he frowns at him.

“Are we continuing to pretend we don’t know? Do we part ways with a handshake and a well wishes?”

“Part ways…I don’t…what?”

“I can’t do casual with you, Alex. It isn’t an option for me.” The thought makes him shudder.

“I’m sorry, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Henry stares up at him, entirely puzzled, “What do you mean?”

“We’re soulmates. Why would we part ways?” The question is innocent enough, it’s the tone that gets Henry. Harrowed and almost pleading in a way that claws its way beneath his skin.

“Alex…you don’t want a soulmate.”

“Says who?”

“Says you? The literal day we met. Your parents? Trainwreck? Ring a bell?” He feels like he may be bordering on insanity.

“That was different.” Alex scoffs, as if the suggestion is offensive to him.

“How?”

“Because I didn’t know you were a possibility.”

Henry’s head drops forward, “Alex. Don’t.”

Alex’s finger presses beneath his chin, tilting it back up to meet his gaze. Alex looks almost frenzied, eyes wide and pleading and Henry finds himself getting lost in them.

“Hen, I expected someone that I would have to love, because that is what I’m meant to do. I managed to fall halfway in love with you before I even knew what it meant. That has to mean something.”

“But what if the same thing happens? What if we crash and burn?”

“I’ll be there in the ashes, fighting for us.” A tinge of a smile quirks Alex’s lips, “I just want to be with you. In any capacity that you’ll have me, preferably forever.”

“Alex-“

“Even if we weren’t soulmates. I would have been drawn to you. Hell, I was drawn to you that night of the convention. A mark on my chest doesn’t outweigh how I feel.” His finger is still beneath Henry’s chin, stopping him from hiding his face, “I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear, I should have talked to you sooner but you are fucking hard to get through to, Fox.”

Henry can’t help but smile, “I’ve been suffering over you for months.”

“Ditto, sweetheart. How do you suppose we fix that?” He waggles his eyebrows in a way that should make Henry cringe but is somehow painfully endearing.

“Take me to bed, you cretin.”

“Oh goodie.” Alex drawls, grabbing Henry’s hand and pulling him to his feet.

“Can I ask?” Henry says as they make their way to his bedroom, quietly passing Pez’s bedroom, “Why now? If you were hiding it for so long.”

“I mean after we slept together and you pulled away I went into panic mode.” Alex sits on the edge of the bed, “I thought you didn’t want me past that and I got terrified. Then when I went to shower tonight I saw my mark. It said-“

“Love of my life.” Henry realises, blood draining from his face.

Alex nods, “That’s how I realised maybe you felt the same.”

The words spark hope within him, like a match being struck. The look in Alex’s eyes is one of wonder, as though he’s as taken aback as Henry is.

“I do. Very much so. You just made me very confused and scrambled.”

“I have that effect on people.” Alex says as he cracks his knuckles jokingly. Then he sobers, pulling Henry to stand between his legs, “If we do this, I don’t want to do it by halves.”

“Me neither.”

“I love you, Henry.”

Then, a tear does fall, one Alex is quick to swipe away with his thumb. The words he has always longed to hear from another man, his soulmate no less, finally being spoken to him with hushed reverence. As though it’s sacred.

“I love you, Alex. So much honestly.”

“Good.” Alex’s hands settle on his hips, thumb pressing to where his soulmark lies beneath his jeans, “Can I see?”

Henry nods, unbuckling his pants and allowing Alex to shimmy them down. He reaches for his boxers next as Alex nods, tongue darting out to lick his lips as he stares at the white patch. When Henry goes to reach for it, Alex bats his hand away, peeling it back himself.

They remain silent as Alex traces the skin around the mark, before pressing his thumb to the script that reads hard to get through to. Henry jolts at the sudden sparks that shoot through his body at the tender touch, having never felt it when he would reverently trace the letters himself.

“So beautiful.” Alex murmurs, and they both watch as the letters shift to match his words, “I am going to have way too much fun with this.”

Alex’s hand so close to his cock, combined with the downright euphoric feeling of him tracing his soulmark, makes him shift slightly as he begins to harden.

“Oh, baby.” Alex says with a smirk, “Really? That gets you going?”

“What can I say? Love confessions do it for me.” He loops his hands around his shoulders, “Maybe I can see yours too?”

By the time Henry finally comes, much, much later, it’s with Alex’s thumb pressed firmly into his soulmark. Henry’s teeth latch onto Alex’s mark, leaving a harsh bruise beneath the letters.

Later, in the afterglow, Henry curls up against Alex’s chest, tracing the letters reverently.

My soulmate, it reads, and Henry knows his matches perfectly.

💒🍰

“Bug, I need you to breathe.”

“Breathe?” She hisses, whirling around to face him, pointing a finger in his face almost threateningly, “I cannot breathe.”

“The ceremony is over. Everything is done. Just relax.” Alex tries to calm her with a winning smile, but it only gets him a fist jammed into his shoulder, “Ow! Fucking hell.”

“This is a very big deal. The biggest most important wedding of my career-“

“That’s pushing it, Bug.” He tries to placate her, but each word only seems to make her frown deepen.

“I want it to be perfect.” She punctuates her statement with a stamp of her foot. The clipboard in her hand looks in danger of snapping in half, but when Alex reaches for it, she yanks it away, “Will you check on the cake?”

“Seriously?” He says teasingly, “On my day off?”

“I will shove my foot, so far up-“

“I’m going, I’m going.” He holds up his hands in surrender, ruffling her hair for good measure as she squawks indignantly before turning and heading into the back room where the cake is being stored.

Unsurprisingly, he finds Henry observing it, arms folded in front of him and head tilted to the side. He comes up behind him, winding his arms around Henry’s waist and pressing a soft kiss to the exposed skin of his neck.

“Hello, love.” Henry murmurs, turning his head to the side to meet Alex’s lips in a soft kiss. One that never fails to make Alex’s stomach do fucking somersault, “I just wanted to see it one last time.”

“You did an amazing job, baby.” He praises, smiling as Henry’s hand covers his own where it lays on his stomach, the cool metal of his wedding band pressed against his skin, “Outdone yourself.”

“It had to be perfect. It’s ours.”

Alex nods, “Ours.”

Henry turns in his arms and all Alex can do is stare into his eyes and wonder what he could have possibly done in a hundred different lifetimes to deserve something like this.

“I love you.” He says, because he can.

“I love you.” Henry repeats, before pressing their lips together.

Much much later, when all the wine has been drank and the cake has been smashed into their faces, they sway back and forth on the dancefloor.

Henry is almost asleep, his face pressed into the curve of Alex’s neck as he allows him to take the lead. Alex holds him tight and smiles softly, lips pressed to the top of his head.

He knows his soulmark, though hidden beneath his shirt, says love of my life.

To match with his husband’s.