Disclaimer: I don't own Ugly Betty, although I wish I did (in particular my own Henry). Thus, I have no formal connection to ABC, Silent H Productions, or anybody/anything else in connection with the show.
Author's Note: This is a first of "A Series of Firsts" A/U one-shots I have planned for H/B. I love and study reviews, both good and constructively bad. So any conversation is appreciated. Thanks in advance (and thanks to my wonderful beta MaddieStJ).
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He wished he had waited longer.
He always assumed he'd be the utmost gentleman and wait until after the first date to make a move. As it turned out, it was the result of rash impulse, an overtaking of the body by determined spirit and lustful soul.
It wasn't a completely happy moment. Saying hello to a new love always meant bidding goodbye to the old. As most pivotal moments are; though, it was inevitable. His former love and he were trapped in two different times; she was in love with the past, he with the future. She had made it so easy, too easy, for him to let go. He knew this was because she loved him, and the guilt gnawed at his conscience in epic proportions. But both of them could no longer deny there was a third Person in their relationship, a Person whose veracity was so pure that she was almost stronger in idea than in image.
He had arrived home after a long day of work, weary and heartsick. Discarding his coat and his scarf from his exhausted body, they fell limp on the armchair as defeated as their wearer. He remained standing, resting his head on the cool door, taking a moment to collect himself. It was going to take all his energy to put in another five-star performance as the Contented Boyfriend.
Suffocated by his own misery, he ignored the delicate hand that grazed his shoulder, whispering prayers of resilience with every stroke.
"Don't."
"Hen—"
"I said, DON'T."
The sharpness in his voice dissolved any remaining resolve both lovers had. It was one of those defining snippets in time—the point of no turning back and the point where you cannot push forward. You are just stuck in your own realization and gloom that it's over. And try as you may, you cannot overcome the feeling of shame that you failed, that you had gold in your hands, and despite your best efforts, you turned it into coal.
"You never asked me to leave."
"I never asked you to come!"
"You lied to me for months. Every kiss, every hug, every loving thing was not for me. You looked at me while you thought of Her!"
"It didn't stop you from rubbing our relationship in Her face every chance you got, did it? Don't fool yourself; I'm not the only villain."
By then, the tears were ripe and fell readily between them. The awkward silence buzzed around mocking them; teasing with every passing second of the way things were and what they had become. It had all come to this--they faced each other as strangers.
Nodding her head in measured, forceful resoluteness, she plowed her way past him. He did not have much time to ponder what was ongoing, she returned to the foyer shortly accompanied by two suitcases…and a train ticket.
So, she had known, or at the very least, suspected. She had not been fooled, only him. Fooled into thinking they were happy, into thinking everything was going to be all right, into thinking he could murder the adoration for another and into thinking he could be content living a lie. He had gone to the dance masquerading as Prince Charming, only to be found out as Court Jester.
He bent down for her bags, but her cold, daring glare forced him to take pause. The tears threatening to spill betrayed her best attempts to feign indifference. Every inch of her body quivered, trembling before him begging to allow her to leave with some dignity. He straightened and permitted her to pass briskly by. A decade's worth of history was about to walk out of his life. And all he could do was stand still and wait.
Her hand reached the door and collapsed against its handle. Struggling to remain her composure, she forced herself to face him.
"It wasn't supposed to happen like this."
He sighed and enveloped her in a hug. They clung to one other, each trying desperately to hang on to the good times and memories they had shared. Slowly releasing each other, he pushed wayward locks of her hair out of the way.
"It wasn't supposed to happen at all."
His lips brushed the side of her delicate cheek. The salty, heartbroken tears of the last kiss would prove to bitter the sweetness of his next first, if only slightly.
He expected to feel sadder once she left, to feel isolated and despondent. And yet, he seemed lighter, relieved and unburdened. Nobody was holding him back now. Nobody but himself.
A part of him knew he should wait until he had properly reflected on what had just occurred. But Hell, he HAD waited. He had been waiting ever since he met Her in October. Enough was enough.
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He wished the setting was more picturesque.
But it took place outside her modest homestead, after a hard day's rain.
He had left his apartment with barely an afterthought and definitively without a plan. He just knew he had to be with her. And quickly.
What happened between his apartment and the Meade Publications building was a blur for him. His desire had overcome all other sensations, driving him to his final destination. When asked later to recount everything, the best he could do was conjure up fragments: the hailing of a cab, the wayward tossing of bills to the driver, the steam of humidity that danced up from the cool marble floor of the entrance, the security guard eyeing him cautiously, and his fingers trembling as he pressed the pearly button to the twenty-eighth floor.
He was greeted by foreboding silence. The last few months at MODE had been chaotic to say the least, and he knew her life had been turned upside down. It was becoming glaringly obvious to anyone associated with the publication that its Creative Director was sharing more than insider information with the Chairman. Furthermore, the newly surgically designated daughter was at war, and the glue of the family was facing life in prison. Worst of all, the Editor in Chief was habitually AWOL, falling apart into a world of sin and debauchery leaving her to pick up the pieces. With all the insanity that had been taking place, it seemed eerie that the floor was so still.
"Henry."
He whipped around. She looked up at him weary, too exhausted to act surprised. Increasingly, her greetings had become more subdued and glum, and it bothered him more than he liked to admit.
"Did you forget something?"
She brushed past him without looking back. For once, he was glad—that meant she had not seen him blush. She was referring to earlier that day. He had visited with the pathetic excuse of delivering her paycheck. Six years of the best education money could afford, five years of work experience, and he was performing tasks the interns usually did. No, sadder still, he was begging for the chore. It was the only way he got to see her, however brief it was.
She had banned him from any other interaction. It was too painful for her to be with him and his ex. It was too painful for him not be with her at all. He knew the moment she had uttered her goodbyes that he had been unfair to her. It was unreasonable for him to ask her to play the content third wheel when he knew she had feelings for him. He had always known it was unfair, almost bordering cruel, the way he dangled the relationship in front of her. In hindsight, he would realize he did this as payback for the wrong and anger he felt when she was with her ex. He had felt humiliated at being led on, and he had spited her because of it. It was uncharacteristic of him; he had never felt such jealousy and passion before to even consider such actions. But he chose to be vindictive, and the moment he did, he earned her cold shoulder.
"Actually, you did. I noticed you didn't bring an umbrella today, and it is pouring."
She looked up but not at him. Sighing heavily, she took a moment to gaze into the grey, angry outside.
"So you brought me one?"
"Um, yeah."
"Don't you need it? You're dripping."
Henry looked down at the puddle he had created. Nothing seemed real until she made it so, and by recognizing the fact that he had been caught in the rain instilled the clammy, frigid sensations within him.
"I guess I misjudged how far it was between the taxi and entrance."
She rustled papers in acknowledgement. Nothing more. He stood there watching her pointedly ignore him, and it took every fiber of his being to allow her to do that rather than fleeing in shame.
"Anyway, I was hoping we could share it."
Finally, she stared straight into his eyes. He had unnerved her, and she momentarily let her guard down.
"I usually take the town car home when I work late."
He was losing her, he could tell. And somehow, deep inside, he knew that if he didn't push harder he would lose her forever.
"Please. I need to talk to you. It's important...I've missed you."
She froze and his breath with her. After immeasurable moments, she regrouped and slowly collected her belongings. After one final inspection, she brushed past him, decisively stealing the umbrella from his grip. He rushed after her.
They rode together in silence She had nestled her way into the farthest possible corner from him, determined not to reward him with any sideways glances. Her apparent indifference flustered him, beating him into submission. He could not, would not, declare his affections to her back. And so, they sat in stony silence.
Despite him living in the city, the car headed straight for her home in Queens. In all likelihood, she had neglected to tell the driver he was even in the car. All too soon, the sleek vehicle came to an abrupt stop, and his last chance to make things right was coming to an end.
She whipped her face around to reveal angry tears boiling underneath the surface.
"I thought you had something to tell me."
He opened his mouth but nothing came out. He did have things to say, too many in fact. He didn't know where to begin, how to phrase things right, to get his point and feelings across. He was overwhelmed at his sudden responsibility, and he desperately wanted to do her justice.
He heard the door swish open and the flailing of her purse. He scrambled out of the car, tripping over himself, but managing to get a firm grip on her wrist.
She paused.
"Charlie and I…it's over."
And before she could ask him any questions, demand any explanations, he seized his opportunity to tell her how he felt: he kissed her.
An extraordinary kiss in a rather ordinary setting.
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He wished he could say that everything around him melted away, until there were only them.
However, it proved rather the opposite. He was very much aware that the world existed but being with her had changed it forever. It was brighter. It was warmer. It was infinitely better. She had breathed a renewed sense of life into him, heightening his senses to a pinnacle of ecstasy.
He grew deaf from the music. The crickets struck up the orchestra, playing their concerto lazily signaling the end of the spring rain. House lights clicked on, welcoming the night and their loved ones home. And best of all, she sighed softly, peacefully, out of the corner of her mouth.
He got lost in her smell. The dewy drops that had poured down on her muted the fruit fragrance of her shampoo. Instead, the vanilla and mint from her soap broke free and soothed him into bliss. He did not have to struggle with artificial scents, false perfumes. No, he only was invited by purity and honesty, and it smelled heavenly.
He grew breathless from her beauty. He could not help himself from stealing a glance. Her skin was buttery caramel, flawlessly free from imperfections. Beads of rain clung to her hair, reflecting light and causing it to unnaturally shimmer. She glowed. She awed. She amazed.
He fell in love with her touch. Her lips were lush and pillowy, softly caressing his. He stroked her palm, feeling it warm up in pleasure in the security of his. With his other, he ran his fingers through her hair, the cool and slightly damp strands like threads of silk, entangling him. But it was the firm, territorial pressure from her right hand around his waist that made him want her more. She was declaring him for herself, a silly formality because he already was hopelessly hers.
He devoured her taste. He drank in the in remnants of her late-night coffee, the cinnamon's bite causing his lips to sting. Combined with the lingering cherry flavor of her lip balm, it was the perfect combination of sweet and spicy. He hadn't realized it till then, but he was home.
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He wished he could say time had stopped.
Of course, it hadn't. In fact, it was impossibly quick and chaste. Her family might see. And this kiss, the first kiss, was meant just for them. It was their secret, their hidden declaration of love and admiration for them to share alone, however brief and chaste it was. A bond was forged; a pact was made, promising them to each other.
Reluctantly, she stepped back. He squeezed her hand in understanding. She had to go, and as much as it killed him, he had to let her. Just this once. She rewarded him with a telling smile that went straight to her eyes—it was going to be okay.
Yes, there were questions needed to be asked, answers that had to be given. Propositions and confrontations would eventually arise. But they allowed themselves that brief moment of utter tranquility and joy. Perhaps another day.
They had time.
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Patience. Scenic. A world alone. Frozen in time.
He wished he could say all those things. Nevertheless, it had been real. It was flawed. He wished he could say that it came right out of a movie. But, he could not.
In fact, the only thing Henry could say was that it was that it was perfect. Which it was.
He would not have wished it any other way.
-:-finis-:-