Henry’s bedtime story: Now or Never // Aglokay one-shot
Disconnecting from the Internet didn’t seem hard comparing to other stuff Henry should finally take a considerably bigger step away from. There were two options; as it always was for him: he could drive to the closest military airport where they would let him borrow a fighter plane so he could just fly away from all the bullshit. The second one required vast amounts of alcohol and honestly, he had hard time making his decision. Both options were very tempting, both would help him only temporarily and both would make his mother worry.
It’s been five weeks. He didn’t count the days, hours or minutes because that would be just naive. Last week they buried a fellow kingsman agent. The one responsible for how Carl was now screwed up. Nah, Henry wasn’t angry. Henry was disappointed which he considered being worse. He needed to drown that disappointment, to kill it with fire, because as much as he loved that fucking Frenchman, he didn’t want to end up hating him for the stuff that was entirely out of his French control. Being sober wouldn’t help Henry at all; the next day would give him a killer hangover and that he didn’t want because he was supposed to fly to Afghanistan for a mission… which would be basically a three week long partying hard, playing games and flying planes.
He couldn’t just persuade himself to be excited about going somewhere far away from the complicated situation. As of this hour, nothing would distance him from his feelings, from how miserable he felt and how he didn’t want to feel anything. His phone was tempting him to call that French fucker (again, he wasn’t angry) and yet again explain to him what the plan was for their relationship. The temptation itself Windsor had been fighting off for the past weeks and it wasn’t getting any better; the plan still existed in his mind, it wasn’t going anywhere, just as Henry still didn’t want to part with Carl. Even though it sounds as if Henry was a control freak, it isn’t the case; Henry is a tactician so it was natural for him to come up with solutions - that’s what he is good at. Why the Frenchman decided not to trust his now ex-partner was still a mystery and explaining it as “it just doesn’t make sense” wasn’t convincing for the prince.
Acting as if nothing happened and they are friends again was exhausting. Every time they would meet in the halls of the HQ, Henry was suppressing screams inside him, like he was taught to back at Buck’s. A prince shouldn’t tell people what he really thinks. A prince should act like he wants to please everybody. A prince should be nice. A prince shouldn’t shout. A prince should smile and wave even though it’s raining on his face. And he didn’t let out those screams, because he was always a good boy and he never wanted to hurt anyone. Being cool around that idiot was hurting the prince, but that’s nobody’s business; the prince had to deal with it on his own.
Henry would be forever grateful for Frank not even scolding him for crying like a baby during their fishing session. It hadn’t even mattered that all the fish got scared off and all they’d caught in the next two hours were only the tiny ones. Henry didn’t hold the grudge against Frank throwing Windsor’s equipment (the laptop) to the water. Henry was happy that dear Lucan took him for fishing and even though the talk wasn’t very cathartic, it was still nice of him to care and try.
But then, Henry didn’t think he could turn to anyone for help. Thinking that, he made his decision: fuck everything, he was going to get wasted. Or at least a little bit drunk. He had to talk, his therapist was a fucker selling secrets to the public and no money could shut his traitorous trap, so the only way was to bribe a bartender at this bar Henry frequented every other month. Now he was there every other day.
‘You know what gets my blood going?’ Henry asked, passing a hundred pound bill to the bartender. The short man behind the bar smiled and nodded. He wouldn’t say a thing; for him, the prince was just a dude in leather jacket, with baseball cap on, drinking scotch and babbling to himself. ‘Flying. You see, when I jump behind the controls, when I start the engine, I’m not here. I’m not there as well. I take off and I leave what I’m supposed to be and what I am. I become a spirit, a cloud even.’
Bartender gave him a look. Okay, that means that additional hundred pounds would cost him talking about spiritual bullshit. He put the bill on the counter anyway and proceeded with the monologue.
‘I thought that it might help me’ Henry emptied the glass and nodded asking for a refill ‘that I will just leave the issues on the ground and fly away, but honestly, they never go away if you don’t face them. They just stick with you pulling you down, don’t they?-’
‘The boyfriend again?’ murmured the bartender not even looking at Windsor.
‘Yes, I’m sorry if you are bored to death about that. I just can’t let that out anywhere else.’
‘I can imagine you have no other friends.’ Another remark. Henry didn’t answer; there were friends but bothering them yet again about Kay seemed like harassing their asses and taking their precious time.
‘This time it’s a farewell.’ Henry took a deep breath and then immediately let out a sigh. His brain needed some air, not to be drowned in the alcohol, but whatever. “I’m going for a trip for three weeks. And I very much hope that we won’t be seeing each other as much afterwards. It’s nothing personal, I just don’t want to fall into bad habits, sir.’
Bartender smiled at Henry and let him speak freely for the next half an hour without interruptions. There was more about flying, more about dreaming of being free, less complaining. After the time passed and Windsor emptied three subsequent tumblers the mood of the monologue changed a bit. Now Henry missed Carl, not getting into details, of course; what army taught him was keeping his mouth shut about some stuff even though his brain was getting more and more drunk. He missed being around Carl, their talks about comicbook stories, he even missed being called Vision, even though at first he hated to be compared to a heartless android (later he learned that the android was probably more human than any other comicbook character). There was a lot to miss, there was a lot to cry about and honestly holding back the tears under influence was a great challenge. Henry made it through with a short break in the loo. Then he got back to his seat behind the counter and resumed his stream of consciousness with the company of fifth glass of scotch.
‘It was all good. I made sure it was good. I wanted him to feel good and safe and you know, I even thought of passing on the game of thrones, I … I don’t know. I just wanted it all to work out. Why people never appreciate when you make an effort, though?’
‘You are stupid, sir.’ Bartender raised his furrowed brow. ‘If I may think that, of course.’ Henry looked at the bloke indifferently and the man changed the attitude. ‘‘What do I know of game of thrones, really. Look, you’ll find someone worth it. Or they will find you, that doesn’t matter. You seem to be a nice guy, not some arsehole. As I’d say to my daughter, you deserve someone brave to be with you, cos that’s one bumpy ride anyway, no? ‘Scuse me, sir, my kid is real devil in woman’s clothing.’
Henry let a short laugh. He thought it was it; he was behaving like a teenage girl but for some reason it wasn’t that bad. He didn’t get to be rebellious teen; all he did back then was discovering his turn ons with a little help of his one year older French friend. He remembered the rush and excitement followed by making sure that they both don’t tell anyone. And they never did.
He was too old to be a teen again, but then he always thought that age is just a number; he was now a man under protocols, he still wasn’t allowed to lead his life how he wanted and that’s why he rented a flat in Woodlands. He thought that he was in so much better situation than any emotional teen. He would figure out the whole heartbreak thing. They say it is possible to die from a broken heart, but it was not Henry’s turn. There was no other way. If it was supposed to hurt it would but Windsor had to learn to live with it. Especially with imminent departure to Afghanistan. He was supposed to be a prince there. A fighter but also a prince, so he had to put himself up. Not that he suddenly became motivated, no, of course no. He just saw the better side of his past with Carl and since he couldn’t let go, he could at least focus on the good things that had happened.
He paid the bill and threw another hundred pound bill for the bartender so he could buy his daughter something nice. The prince caught a cab, greeted the driver and asked him to drive to Buckingham Palace. Henry promised queen mother to show up before leaving; he would again make her worry, oh what kind of a son he was to give her a headache? Don’t kids do that?
The prince smiled to the guards; one of them helped him reach the doors; Henry didn’t care about photographers hidden behind the trees, he was way too drunk for that.
He ended up hugging his tiny mother, telling her finally that he’s been dumped but he’s okay.
He didn’t feel okay. He felt empty, but that was something better that the burden of disappointment.
‘It’s okay, mum. You can go back to sleep. I didn’t let you down. I’m a grown ass man, I can take care of myself.’ Henry whispered to the queen’s ear not sure if he was convincing her or himself.