Did I already wish you a happy birthday this morning? Yes. Am I doing it again because I had to mark the occasion on Tumblr???? Absolutely! This is where we met! Me in your ask box after reading one of your stories for the first time because your writing rewired my entire brain! 😂💜
Happy happiest birthday, Kim. I am SO grateful for you, there aren’t enough adjectives to describe how much. You’re incredibly kind, fucking hilarious, and bloody brilliant. I count my blessings every single day our paths crossed in fandom. I hope you had a beautiful, chill, relaxing day and may this next year be full of new and exciting chapters. 365 days in this new rotation around the sun for you to shine and I’ll be right here cheering you on 24/7. YOU DA BEST!!!! ☀️❤️❤️❤️🥳
Sooooooonia! Omg putting it in perspective like that, it’s truly so wild to see how one message managed to snowball into a friendship that has transcended space and time! I’ll never forget how sweet you were that day. You honestly blew my mind with your kindness and your continued support has meant the world! This has put the biggest smile on my face. I’m so glad I decided to start writing on here because it led me to you! THANK YOU!!! 💕💜😭
Happy wip wednesday! I was tagged by @iboatedhere and @avacoleman - thank you so much, lovelies 💛
Alex turns, his bright smile overtaking Henry in the best way possible. He feels his breath vanish from his lungs. Henry has gotten to know Alex in a lot of capacities. But him in the morning, soft and in a slight disarray, always unguarded in a way that feels rooted in safety would always be one of his favourite versions. “Morning, Sweetheart.”
Sweetheart, the term of endearment makes Henry’s heart skip a beat. It has been far too long. He had forgotten what this had all felt like. Alex rounds the counter, picking up a mug on the way by, and he crosses the small distance to where Henry stands. His hand is warm where it settles on the side of Henry’s neck, and he leans in, placing the gentlest of kisses to Henry’s lips. Despite that, it almost causes Henry to collapse with every memory from the night prior piecing back together in his mind.
When Alex leans back enough only to break the kiss, he holds up the mug between them. “Tea?”
Henry smiles and takes it, wrapping his hands around it. “Thank you.”
“And,” Alex turns towards the kitchen. Henry walks to the counter. “Breakfast should be right along. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, the works.”
“You didn’t have to do all that,” Henry tries. “I would have been quite alright with toast.”
Alex flashes a grin over his shoulder. “I wanted to. Besides, today is the last day of this whole thing. Think of it as more of a celebratory thing.”
The realisation hits Henry way too hard for the time of morning. In fact, it wasn’t much of a realisation at all. He had been thinking about it all night, tangled together with Alex and thinking about the way that he was incredibly close to losing him. He had gone over a million things he could say, but he couldn’t. This was only meant to be a temporary situation—
“What are your plans?” Henry asks without thinking much about it. He had promised himself he would just let things unravel the way they were meant to, that he wouldn’t push anything. Anything that happened before this didn’t have to matter. “After today, I mean.”
So much for that.
Alex’s gaze finds his and, as usual, sends a wave of calm through Henry, and he shrugs a shoulder. He turns off the stove.“Thought I might stick around a little while longer. I feel like there’s so much more to see, and well I—I guess I’m not quite ready to say goodbye yet.”
“To Italy?” Henry asks. “I suppose that does make sense. It is a wonderful place and—”
“To you,” Alex whispers, rounding the counter once again and reaching for Henry, his arms going around his waist and pulling him close. “I mean, yeah, Italy has been an experience. But you, Henry, you are probably the most wonderful thing about it.”
Tears unexpectedly spring to Henry’s eyes, emotion weighing thick in his throat.
Alex sucks a deep breath in before continuing, “I mean, I really think I am falling—”
From where it sits on the counter, Alex’s phone begins to ring and effectively cuts off his words. Henry’s heart is beating a thousand miles per hour, feels as though it may burst right out of his chest, but he smiles softly. Henry glances down at the screen and finds it’s Alex’s boss. “Perhaps you should get that. It could be important.”
Alex smiles, whispering we aren't done here and gives him a quick kiss, first on his lips and then on his forehead before grabbing his phone and turning around, disappearing from the room. Henry sips at his tea and steals a piece of bacon while he waits, scrolling through his own messages. When he hears the soft padding of Alex’s steps once again, he turns and the smile that is on his face slowly falls when he sees the way Alex’s features have contorted into sadness, his brows knitted together as he stares down at his phone.
happy wednesday, lovelies! <3
words were suddenly able to be a thing for me again lately and so in result, we get to work on the letters to juliet au again, so yay!
Henry watches, chin rested in the palm of his hand, as the steam rises from his mug of tea. His other hand rests idly near his open laptop, a blank document opened and the cursor blinking mercilessly at him. Next to that was a stack of letters, delivered to him just that afternoon, full of words of love and admiration. He only wished he could enact the same words onto the page before him.
Outside, the weather had turned quickly, dark clouds rolling in and bursts of thunder rumbling before the sky opened up and now rain pelted his windows. During this time, David had tucked himself up on the floor near Henry’s feet, for his own comfort and reassurance just as much as Henry’s.
A particularly loud crack of thunder sounds, startling Henry out of his trance and he lets out a long breath, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his eyes. He leans forward once again, resting his forearms on the table before reaching and slamming the laptop closed, finally silencing the damned cursor.
The letters and others love stories will have to suffice for right now.
Henry reaches for another stack, tucked into the small basket and begins to tear them open. He had never imagined this, becoming one of the Secretaries of Juliet, but after his publishing career had come to a startling standstill and the desperation for his hands to write words; the opportunity had sort of fallen directly into his lap. He was a romantic at heart really and if he couldn’t write one, couldn’t have his own love, he would help others find theirs. It was only fair.
The thing was, he has grown used to being alone. Of course, he had people in his life, his family would often visit along with his best mate, Pez and there a few of the townspeople that he has gotten acquainted with. But he had begun to make peace with the fact there probably wouldn’t be anything long term for him. He figures that, perhaps, it is simpler that way.
The fourth envelope, Henry quickly discovers, is not like any of the others. While most were crisp and white, had been dated far more recently, this one was aged and tattered. The date at the top corner reads 1957 and the address line tells him that it has been received from Austin, Texas. Henry swallows hard, staring at it as if it’s going to fall to a thousand pieces if he’s not careful. How were they only receiving this now? How did something so fragile and important get so lost?
Henry carefully rips it open, pulling the dated piece of paper out and unfolding it, beginning to read the curled words that had been written, an ache settling deep within his chest. Sometimes he wonders if he absorbs far too much, feels the heartbreak of each letter as if it’s his own. But he consistently pushes that thought aside, tries to remember that his words enact change in whatever way they are needed. They help people to move forward, or be brave, or allow love into their lives. That is what he’s always wanted. Allowing himself to feel these things allows him to understand.
He pulls a fresh stretch of paper from the pile set on the corner of his desk and grabs a pen, immediately allowing the ink to seep into the surface of the paper, the words seemingly flowing from him. It was why he loved letter writing so much, why he would never give it up.
Happy Wednesday, everyone! The good news is, this fic is ever so slowly coming to a close and should be around here soon enough! But until then, I provide you with another snippet.
tagged by @welcometololaland and @iboatedhere — thank you so much, lovelies 💛
Alex clicks into the most recent post on Henry’s feed, a photo taken of a plane window with the simple caption new album incoming, without much thought, Alex likes it. Along with another of a beagle that Alex remembers reading once is named David and is an emotional support animal for Henry.
Finally, Alex closes from the app and tosses his phone on the bed beside him. He sits for too long trying to convince himself that this is nothing and when that doesn’t work, he runs his hands down his face, turns on his side and presses a pillow to the side of his head. It does absolutely nothing to qualm the thoughts echoing in his head. For a moment, his body tricks him into thinking his eyes are growing heavy, and he groans when they reopen on their own accord.
Alex rolls himself out of bed, his bare feet hitting the cool flooring. He needs to run or make a list, or both. He begins with the latter of the two while throwing on clothes and pulling on his running shoes.
1. Feeling anything for Henry would be breaking his number one rule of never getting involved with a visiting musician.
2. He’s only known Henry in professional sense for mere hours. There is absolutely no way anyone can develop feelings in that amount of time.
3. Granted, Henry is very beautiful and talented and everything that draws Alex in.
4. Perhaps Alex has always thought Henry was beautiful and talented (but not since he was twelve, Nora).
Alex rolls his eyes as he descends the steps from the apartment and down into the main studio area. For a moment, he doesn’t quite realise it, but upon a second glance, he discovers that Henry’s door is wide open. Another moment passes before he hears it, the melodic tune of a piano. Alex follows it until he’s at the doorway of the recording booth where sure enough, he finds Henry, his fingers almost floating against the keys of the piano. Alex goes unnoticed due to the angle in which Henry sits, and for a moment, he’s able to take him in, the way his eyes are fluttered closed, his lips parted ever so slightly and—
5. Alex desperately wants to know how those lips feel against his.
6. Henry’s long, skilled fingers.
Alex lingers for a beat longer before he sucks in a deep breath, forces himself away, and moves toward the entrance of the studio building. He opens and closes the door as quietly as possible, thankful for the cool breeze against his too warm skin. He begs his body to immediately stop reacting to his thoughts.
7. He is officially screwed.
As per usual, I'm late to the game, so an open tag to everyone and then my forever tag @avacoleman <3
happy wednesday, lovelies!! I hope everyone's days are treating them well!! <3
It may be two in the morning, the city deserted and the businesses closed. However, the world seems to be that much more beautiful when it’s still. Henry gets to show Alex one of his favourite parks, gets to walk with their fingers intertwined, laughing and leaning into one another. All without the worry of flashing cameras, just simply enjoying each other’s company. It’s incredibly freeing for Henry to be able to feel in such a public way, even if most of the public is safely tucked in their homes, sleeping.
“Thank you for this evening, Alex.” Henry says after a long stretch of comfortable silence.
“You’re welcome,” Alex’s voice is soft and he lifts their hands to press a kiss to Henry’s knuckles. “Thank you for sharing this place with me, it’s beautiful.”
“There’s so much more I’d like to show you,” Henry says. “Tea shops, museums, libraries.”
“Any that are open at,” Alex pauses his movements to squint at his watch. “Two thirty in the morning?”
Henry stops too and tries to not let the sadness show in his smile. “I’m afraid not.”
Alex smiles and it’s much more hopeful and bright. “One day, sweetheart. One day you’ll get to live your life the way you deem, not the way some piece of paper says you have to. One day we’ll get to love each other openly.”
Henry feels something deep within him pulse and swell. “Love?”
“Yeah?” Alex answers on instinct.
Henry chuckles, his nose crinkling. “No, I mean, you said love each other openly.”
Panic flashes across Alex’s face for the briefest of moments before his features calm. “Shit. Uh, yeah, I didn’t mean — this doesn’t have to be — fuck.”
“Alex, hey, shhh,” Henry says soothingly, his hands on Alex’s face, his thumbs stroking across Alex’s cheekbones. “Did you mean it?”
“I would never lie to you about something like this, Henry,” Alex says softly, his arms wrapping around Henry’s waist and pulling him closer. “I would never lie to you, sweetheart.”
Henry presses his forehead to Alex’s. He blames the fact that they are the only ones on his bravery and he kisses Alex, right there in the middle of the park where he had spent so many nights wondering what it would be like. Now, he has his answer and it couldn’t be more gratifying.
When they part, Henry leans back, levelling his gaze to meet Alex’s. He feels a fire beginning to burn in his chest, the need for Alex deeply rooted within him and suddenly he’s going to burst. “Please take me home.”
He does not have to make the request twice.
tagging @avacoleman jusssstttt in casseeee <3 Also open tag for anyone who would like to share!! <3
Happy Wednesday!! I hope everyone is doing well 💛 Surprise I finally have something written (5k of something if you can believe it). This is from the musician henry/studio owner alex au I have in the works.
tagged by @carlos-tk thank you so much 💛
The space surrounding Henry is warm, both in feeling and in temperature. Henry welcomes it. The weather had quickly turned just as Henry arrived, the wind beginning to pick up, and raindrops starting to fall from the dark clouds. When he had stepped into the building, a voice had called from near the back, letting Henry know they would be right with him. While Henry waits, he wanders the length of the hallway, admiring the framed records of artists that had once recorded in this studio. To his left, there is an empty office and to his right, the recording booth. Henry steps in, letting out a deep breath as he sees the black sleek piano sitting dormant in the space.
Henry moves towards it, as if it calls out to him and stares down at the keys for a beat. Music, for Henry, had always been a saving grace. No matter what he was going through, he could simply play and feel all his worries melting away. But after his father got sick, like so many things in his life, music got put onto the backburner. Ever so slowly, as each day his father got worse, he felt the connection to music slipping away, too.
Henry carefully places his fingers on the keys. He hasn't played since his father's passing, scared of the grief that hangs around him each time he has attempted. But now, he simply lets out a deep breath as he allows himself to begin playing. The song is the first he had learned on the piano back when he was a child. It was a silly, upbeat tune that his father had taught him, and Henry had loved it. The moment he hears it, it brings back so many memories.
Arthur Fox, for all intents and purposes, had been the beginning, the middle, and the end of the journey of Henry’s music. Or, if Henry could have his way, that would be the simple end of it. But he had promised another album, had signed a contract and while the label had sent him a card with how devastatingly heartbroken they were for his loss only three months ago; they were now demanding him back to the studio. To make matters that much worse, the head of the record company happens to be Henry’s own grandmother. It makes it all feel like such a betrayal.
Henry, for all intents and purposes, would like to tell them all to shove it.
Something wells deep in Henry’s chest, emotion heavy as his fingers slowly seize against the keys and the music comes to a close. Despite all that, though, Henry smiles softly, thankful for the memories that the song had produced for him.
tagged by @carlos-tk @rmd-writes @nelsonnicholas thank you so much, lovelies!! <3
Henry watches with intent as Alex begins to explain the steps of the recipe. He takes in everything; the way Alex holds to the knife as he finely chops the shallots, how much oil he puts into the pan, and the amount of stock he adds in each time it's needed.
However, slowly, Henry's gaze drifts until it falls to focus solely on Alex. His movements are relaxed, and his tone is gentle but so full of wonder and passion and the soft smile on his lips. It's an entirely different Alex than the one Henry sees each day running a restaurant. This Alex, Henry thinks, is a very rare occurrence, and he secretly wonders how many people have gotten the chance to see him like this. This Alex holds his love for cooking so near to his heart, the same way Henry holds his love for writing.
Alex's gaze rises, finding Henry's eyes on him and warmth climbs up Henry's spine.
Alex's smile grows. "What?"
Henry studies him for a moment, and he so desperately wants to tell Alex how amazing he is, how he admires him, and for all intents and purposes, that he is falling deeply for him. The man so full of talent, kindness, and sarcastic remarks.
Instead, Henry simply smiles and whispers that it's nothing.
