A/N: This fic has taken me forever to finish. Like, when I first started writing this, Henrik was still only queer-coded and we all thought that Holby would be airing for years into the future. Now look where we are - Henrik is canonically queer (and has been since April 27th), which is good (I mean, sucks that it had to happen in the context of "yeah he had a teenaged crush on the man who later went on to abuse him", but at least it happened), but Holby is cancelled, which is bad (ok, in its current state it kind of deserved it, but I was hoping for it to improve and now it never will 😔 damn).

I don't actually even like this fic much, especially not the ending (I'm quite proud of the first three quarters or so of this, but the last quarter is terrible), but I thought since I wrote it I might as well publish it. So here we are.

So. I know it's been a common theory for years that John may have been sexually abused during the trafficking he suffered as a child... and now we know Henrik was abused as well. The thought of this being yet another similarity between Henrik and John, another part of their shared identity, fucks me up and I decided to write a thing.

I've also thought for a while that Henrik probably messed John around a lot (emotionally) when they were at Rigden, and blew very hot-and-cold with him, not out of any real intent to manipulate or harm him but just... because he didn't know how to accept being bi, and kept trying to "prove" to himself that he was actually straight. (It's probably one of the reasons he and John were never able to form an actual relationship rather than the whole weird mutual-pining, friends-with-occasional-benefits thing they had going on.) I hold that headcanon even more strongly now that we know about his past abuse. So yeah, that shows up quite a bit in this fic.

Also, for the sake of this fic, I'm assuming Henrik and John slept together at uni at some point, probably on the night John saved Henrik from the lake. I go back and forth on whether I think they ever actually got that far in canon or if it was just full-on repressed pining, but for this fic let's just say they did because I kind of needed that to be the case for the setup to work.

I put trigger warnings in the description, but I should probably reiterate them again: TW for heavy discussion of sexual abuse and rape, and for mentions of suicide and self-harm (there's a scene in here where Henrik talks about his first suicide attempt as a teenager, and mentions the method he used). Also, general mental illness/depression/self-loathing stuff, and discussion of intrusive thoughts (in this case, Henrik having intrusive thoughts about potentially becoming an abuser). This is a pretty emotionally intense fic, I think, so be careful reading it if you're easily triggered.

Henrik drags John to the lab one night.

They're hanging out in the school basement, music thumping and lights flashing like most nights. John lost track of David and Rox some time ago: maybe they're talking to other people, maybe they've snuck off somewhere together. Either way, they're not the focus of John's thoughts at the moment.

No, that would be Henrik, who is clearly off his face – John doesn't know how much Henrik's had to drink, and he doesn't think he wants to know, either – and has started talking to some girl whose name John doesn't know.

Henrik probably doesn't know it either, John thinks. This isn't an uncommon routine; Henrik does this quite often, in fact, striking up conversation with whatever girl he can find. He'll meet eyes with them, touch them, sometimes even kiss them, and then throw a glance or two John's way just to make sure he's looking.

And it never seems to go any further. John has never seen Henrik take a single one of these girls back to his dorm room. It's just Henrik's way of making John jealous.

But John won't dare admit that it works.

He watches Henrik brush his hand across the woman's arm, muttering something to her that John can't hear. The woman laughs, twirling a strand of her hair, and then Henrik leans in and kisses her cheek.

It makes John want to scream.

Then the woman reaches out, brushing one hand up Henrik's torso and placing her other hand on the back of his thigh. Henrik recoils, pulling away, and murmurs something that John guesses is an excuse to leave.

"What were you doing?" John asks, as Henrik sits back down next to him.

"I was having fun, John. You should try it sometime."

"No, Henrik," John snaps. "You were using that girl to make me jealous. It's not fair to me and it wasn't even fair to her. And you've been flirting with her for the better part of the last hour, but the moment she makes a move on you, you just abandon the situation?"

Henrik is silent for a while after that. Finally, he whispers "it wasn't like that. I'm sorry."

"What was it like, then?"

"I don't know." Henrik sounds so distressed, and so confused by his own actions, that John can't help but feel some sympathy for him. "I don't know. I'm sorry, John."

"Henrik... are you okay? You seem upset."

"I'm a horrible friend. I'm sorry."

"You're not," John assures him quietly.

Henrik suddenly grabs John's hand. John doesn't even have the chance to ask what he's doing before Henrik pulls him up and guides him into the unoccupied laboratory. John's half-surprised that Henrik isn't tripping over his own feet in this state.

Henrik slams the lab door shut, making John flinch with surprise. Then he lets go of John's hand.

"What have you brought me here for?" John asks quietly.

"I have something I need to tell you," Henrik confesses. "But you won't – you won't want me anymore, not once you know. No one would."

There is very, very little that would make John stop loving Henrik. Henrik should know that.

Surely he does know it, deep down? Henrik can't possibly be so deluded as to think John could ever stop wanting him?

But John doesn't say any of that out loud. Instead, he says "it can't be that bad. It's okay. Just tell me."

"I lied," Henrik says. "When we... that night... I told you that you were the first man I'd ever slept with. I lied. I'm a liar. I'm sorry."

John would be lying if he said the revelation didn't anger him. He liked the idea of being Henrik's first (and if Maja Johansson had already won the position of Henrik's first time, John would settle for being Henrik's first man), he did, but if Henrik hadn't disclosed either way, John would have been okay with that. After all, John hasn't told Henrik about his own sexual history. He has no plans to. Henrik would think him damaged goods, if he knew. He'd be disgusted with him. Even if he were compassionate about the... the things that happened in John's youth, he certainly wouldn't approve of John's recent history, of the things John actually had a choice in. He'd deem John promiscuous at best, a whore at worst, he'd scold John for taking the risk in this day and age. John could never tell him.

But John has simply made the choice not to disclose. Henrik? Henrik has lied to him. He told John he was the first, when he knew that wasn't true. Why the hell would Henrik even do such a thing? Just to make John look like a fool when he found out the truth? To manipulate him? To take advantage of the love he knows John has for him?

"When I was 14, I had an affair with an older man."

And suddenly, John has the sinking feeling that this 'first time' is not what Henrik made it sound like. "How... how much older?"

"He was 28. He was a teacher at my boarding school. I know what you're thinking, but it wasn't – it wasn't what it sounds like, I swear. He loved me. And I loved him. And... we struck up a connection quite quickly, while I was at school. He'd flirt with me when no-one else was around. A couple of times, he kissed me. And then he asked me if I wanted to stay with him for the summer. We had to keep it a secret, of course. We were two males, and I was his student. It would have been a massive scandal if anyone knew. But I said yes, and I spent the summer holidays at his house. He was so nice to me. Sometimes we shared a bed at night, and we'd steal kisses and touches when we were alone. Then one day, his daughter was at a sle- a sleep-" Henrik pauses, stumbling over his words. "She was at a sleepover with a family friend. So it was just the two of us for the evening. And he took me to his bedroom, and I... that was my actual first time having sex with a man. Or with anyone. I'm sorry I lied to you about it."

John is quiet for a moment, trying to formulate a response to all of this. Eventually, he speaks, as gently as he can. Henrik's evidently in a fragile state, and this isn't an easy thing to talk about with anyone, under any circumstance. "You were a 14-year-old student and he was a 28-year-old teacher. That's not sex, Henrik, that's rape."

"I know," Henrik admits, his voice breaking. And that's when he starts sobbing.

"Oh, Henrik," John whispers. He reaches out carefully, trying to give Henrik the option of deciding whether to let John touch him or not.

Henrik just nods, letting John get closer to him and put an arm around him. Then he leans in against John, and it's awkward, because John's really far too short for that, but he doesn't have the heart to point that out to Henrik. Not right now.

John swears he can feel his heart breaking. This isn't fair. Henrik doesn't deserve this. No one does, except maybe John himself, but especially not Henrik. These sorts of things aren't supposed to happen to Henrik. Henrik is supposed to be better than John. Henrik deserves the world, and yet it's only ever given him Hell.

John wishes he knew what to say.

He could say 'I'm sorry'.

He could say 'this doesn't define you'.

He could say 'it's not your fault'.

He could say 'it happened to me, too'.

He doesn't think any of them would comfort him if he were to hear them from someone else. They'd all sound like empty platitudes.

Except, perhaps, the last one.

But John doesn't have the courage to say that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

"I told you you wouldn't want me anymore," Henrik says through tears. "You just think I'm damaged goods now, don't you?"

That catches John off guard. He hadn't thought that Henrik would interpret his silence this way – but, honestly, if this were the other way around, he would probably think the same thing. "Oh, God, no, Henrik. No, no, I could never see you that way. It wasn't your fault. He chose to hurt you."

"I wanted it," Henrik insists frantically, contradicting himself. "I was excited to finally sleep with him. I agreed to it. He actually asked me if I was ready, and I said yes. I wanted it. It wasn't rape. It didn't feel like rape."

"You were 14! You were a child!" John then realises that, as angry as he may be at the man who did this, shouting is only going to make Henrik feel worse. He tries to quiet himself. "You were too young. You couldn't consent. He was an adult, he was your teacher, it was his responsibility to say no. And it was his responsibility to not be kissing you or flirting with you in the first place, let alone inviting you to live with him. I know you probably thought you wanted it, but look at how much it's hurt you. You were 14. You... you couldn't understand that it would affect you like this. You couldn't understand what you were supposedly consenting to. He would've understood how young you were, that you couldn't possibly have been ready. He understood what he was doing to you."

Henrik doesn't say anything for some time. He just stands there, leaning on John, and crying.

John holds Henrik close in the silence.

"Do you remember when I told you about the time I tried to kill myself?" Henrik asks. "The first time. Before I met you. When I was 15 and I slashed my arm up. I had to say it was an accident when I was found, remember?"

John nods.

"This was why – this, and my mother's death," Henrik admits. "But this was what pushed me over the edge. You see, I didn't – I thought it was okay, when it happened. I felt loved. And happy. But the more time went by, I... I had more distance from the whole thing, and I came to realise what he did to me was r–... that it was a–... that it was wrong. I thought my life was over. I couldn't bear to live with myself. I felt so ashamed. I felt tainted. I felt dirty. I still do. I don't know if it will ever go away. I hate even looking at myself some days." Henrik's voice breaks, again, and he sounds terribly small and fragile as he asks: "d'you think it will go away, John?"

"I don't know," John tells him, because 'yes' would be an obvious lie.

Henrik grips the hem of John's shirt. "I want it to go away," he mutters, and he sounds like he's about to start crying again even though he's only just stopped. "I want to forget it even happened. I don't want to deal with this forever."

John understands that.

"I thought maybe if I didn't tell anyone it would go away, but it didn't," Henrik says, his voice shaking. "I don't wanna spend the rest of my life as a r... as a victim. God, John, listen to me, I can't even say it. I'm useless."

(If John were less of a coward, this is where he would say I still can't say it either, it's okay, we can work on it together. But he doesn't.)

"But it's all I am, isn't it? This is all I am. This, and a number of other things, but none of them are good. I hate it, John, I hate it. No one'll want me now. I tried to have a normal relationship and look how it's ended! I'm broken," he sobs.

"I still want you," John assures him gently.

"Do you?"

"Yes, of course. This doesn't make me see you any differently, Henrik," John promises.

It's a lie, really. Of course this makes John see Henrik differently. Not that he sees Henrik as broken or tainted and certainly not as dirty – none of that.

But it's a reminder – one John isn't sure he wanted – that Henrik is human, too. He's not a divine creature above John. He's not on some kind of pedestal. He's a person, as vulnerable to sexual assault as anyone else. (If not even more vulnerable, John thinks, because he knows the way Henrik can be sometimes. He's seen firsthand how, for someone with intense intellectual maturity and academic skill, Henrik can be terribly delicate and naive; he's seen how confused Henrik is by the world and how much he relies on John to help him navigate it; and if Henrik's like that now, how fragile must he have been at 14?) He's a person, and he was abused, just like John was.

It unnerves John.

Suddenly, Henrik leans in closer to John, about to press their lips together. John hurriedly pulls back.

"See? You're lying," Henrik mutters. "You don't want me anymore."

"Henrik..." John sighs. "No, Henrik, it's not that, I promise. You're upset, and you're way too drunk, and I don't want you initiating anything you might regret."

Henrik is quiet for a few moments, and then he says "I'm sorry," for what is probably the hundredth time tonight.

John's not sure Henrik even knows what he's apologising for. His head seems to be all over the place tonight. John doesn't know how much of it is the drink and how much of it is emotional turmoil from telling such a massive secret. "It's alright," he assures Henrik.

He guides Henrik to a chair and coaxes him to sit down, then takes a seat himself, right next to Henrik.

"So you never told anyone before?"

Henrik shakes his head. "No. No one. Ever. Not even Maja knew. And you can't tell anyone. Please. I could never possibly bring myself to look Roxanna in the eye again if she knew I..."

"I won't say anything," John promises. "I'm just glad you feel safe enough to tell me. You're very brave for doing that."

"I don't feel brave," Henrik whispers. "I freak out when people touch me. You saw me with that girl earlier. I'm too scared to get close to anyone. Most men my age have already had several girlfriends, plenty of them gladly even sleep around, and I... I couldn't even do it more than a handful of times with Maja. I can't even – with you, John."

John nods, just to show Henrik he's still listening.

"I can't even be trusted to be around my own son."

That catches John off guard. "Henrik? What do you mean by that?"

"I can't be a parent. I can't be around him. I'll hurt him. I don't wanna do that."

John frowns, gently rubbing circles on Henrik's back. He understands this fear, has worried about it himself in the past. It took him a long time before he made up his mind that all of that was a ridiculous myth. He supposes Henrik still hasn't got there yet. "Henrik. That's not how it works."

"Yes it is," Henrik mutters. "You know most perpetrators of sexual abuse were..."

"That doesn't mean you'll hurt anyone."

"It's not worth the risk."

"If... if you really feel that way, then that's alright, but I know you and I trust you and you couldn't do that to a child. To anyone."

Henrik just seems to ignore John's reply. "I don't like children, John. I don't like being around them. They scare me. No, it's not their fault – I scare me. I always picture... I always picture myself hurting them. Why would I think about that if I wasn't a..." Henrik cuts himself off before the last word, unable to bring himself to even say it.

"Because you're scared, Henrik," John murmurs. "Because you're a good person. The thought of doing something like that... if you were really at risk of hurting a child, that thought wouldn't scare you like this. You picture it because it's your worst fear. Not because you actually want to do it."

"And you think any psychiatrist would agree? If I told someone with actual qualifications – rather than a medical student with too much bias because he's gay and in love with me – if I told someone with actual qualifications that I picture myself hurting children... they'd lock me up."

"So? You think it matters what psychiatrists think?"

"Is this the part where you give me the 'psychiatry is pseudoscience' lecture again?"

"Something like that."

"I'm scared," Henrik whispers. He sounds so terribly fragile, and it worries John.

"It's okay," John whispers back, because he doesn't know what else to say. "It's okay. You're not going to hurt anyone, Henrik. I know you wouldn't. And you can... you can live with this. You're going to be okay. Maybe it's not going to go away, and I'm so sorry that it won't, but... you can cope with it. I promise."

"What would you know?" Henrik suddenly snaps.

John doesn't have anything to say to that.

Within a few minutes, Henrik has apparently once again jumped to deciding the silence means John hates him, as he whimpers a quiet "I'm sorry, John, I shouldn't have shouted."

"It's alright," John assures him. "I'm not upset with you."

"It's just that no one understands," Henrik admits. "I'm lonely. No one knows what it's like. Sometimes I get angry at people just because they haven't been through... this. And I know I'm a terrible person for thinking that but I can't help it. I just get so angry that they don't have to live with this. Feeling so dirty. So tainted. No matter what I do, I can't get clean," he says, audibly choking back a sob.

John wonders if Henrik gets angry at him sometimes.

He almost asks how Henrik could possibly know for sure whether someone else was abused too or not, but he decides it would probably just give him away and make Henrik feel worse. It's better to stay quiet and let Henrik talk about his experience, even if his thought processes are far from logical. (And maybe John's pretending, now, that he didn't think similar things about Henrik before tonight. Pretending that he didn't have the same thoughts – thoughts about how Henrik could never understand, about how he surely had no idea what John was living with.)

"You're not a terrible person, Henrik. And you're not dirty or unclean, okay? He is. He's the one who raped you."

Henrik flinches back at the use of that word. "I don't like calling it that," he mutters.

"I won't do it again," John promises. He's well aware that even using the word in the first place was probably a hypocritical move on his part. He can still barely say the words in his mind. He wouldn't want someone saying what happened to him out loud, either.

"Maybe I'm lucky," Henrik declares. "It wasn't violent. It didn't hurt – any more than I think your first time is supposed to."

"He betrayed your trust," John argues. "He used you. Is that not worse than physical violence?"

"No," is all Henrik says.

"Okay, so maybe it isn't worse," John tries to compromise. "But it's not any better, either, Henrik."

Henrik goes quiet, clearly not knowing what to say to that, before he finally seems to decide to let John have this one.

John can't bring himself to say anything. He doesn't want to make Henrik feel pressured to talk.

Eventually, Henrik speaks up again. "I did love him. I did. He made me feel happy, at a time in my life when I thought I'd never be happy again. I don't... I don't miss him, but I miss what we had. I miss how it made me feel. Is that bad?"

It is. Of course it is. Even John can figure that much out. But he thinks that it would break poor Henrik to be told that, thinks that Henrik's question isn't really 'is this feeling bad', it's 'am I bad'.

So that's the question he answers, instead. "It isn't bad, Henrik. I can't tell you it's good, either, we both know I'd be lying. But it's not bad. It's a natural human reaction. It's normal, it's okay."

Henrik nods. "I felt like I was special. I liked being special. I liked it when he made me think I was some kind of genius and that's why nobody understood me. It was better than the truth."

"What truth?"

"That there's something wrong with me," Henrik states plainly. "There's something wrong with me, and nobody knows what. I'm just broken."

John has heard a lot of new things from Henrik tonight, but this isn't one of them. Henrik circles back to this in so many of their conversations, to the idea that he's somehow broken or wrong.

And Henrik is different. That much is true. But it's not a bad sort of different, even if it does make things hard sometimes, and he's certainly not broken or wrong; John wishes Henrik could see that for himself.

"Don't say that. You aren't broken, Henrik."

Henrik is silent after that.

John sits with him in the quiet, rubbing Henrik's back again in an attempt at comfort. Henrik relaxes into John's touch at first, but after a while, he impulsively recoils.

John pulls away. Rationally, he knows it's likely not anything he did, and Henrik's reaction is probably not personal. John understands from experience the feeling of longing to be touched sometimes, then hating the very thought of it the next second. It's normal, for people who have been through what they've been through. A part of John, though, can't help but feel rejected.

Henrik starts trembling, first, and then John hears him gasping as though he's holding back tears.

(He wonders if he did something wrong after all, if he did something to make Henrik so upset.)

Henrik looks exhausted, John thinks. His stifled cries make him sound completely and utterly worn down.

"You seem very tired," John points out, gently, hoping he won't upset Henrik further.

Henrik only nods in response.

"Do you want to go to bed?" John suggests.

Henrik doesn't reply to that for a long while, but eventually, he nods again.

John gets up from his chair, and glances at the clock. It's 1:30 A.M. Definitely long past time for him to get Henrik to bed. He turns his gaze back to Henrik, then, and carefully helps him up.

Henrik stumbles, briefly. John would've been surprised if he hadn't – the tiredness and the alcohol aren't a good combination. He grips Henrik's arms firmly, steadying him; then he lets go and tucks an arm around Henrik instead.

He gently guides Henrik all the way back to his dorm, and when they get there, Henrik quickly slumps down on the bed. John only barely has the chance to remind him to take his shoes off first.

John turns the lights off, about to leave the room and let Henrik get the rest he needs, when Henrik suddenly speaks up for the first time in at least half an hour.

"John?"

John turns back and looks at Henrik.

"I can't sleep," Henrik insists, "not tonight. I can't."

John wonders if this is his fault, if he somehow made Henrik feel like he had to tell John about what happened and reopen all these old wounds in the process. Maybe he shouldn't have confronted Henrik about that girl. Maybe if he hadn't done that, Henrik wouldn't have felt the need to explain everything.

John hates the thought of being responsible for making Henrik upset.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" he asks regardless, keeping his tone quiet and soft, because Henrik's clearly still in a fragile state.

"Please," Henrik whispers. "I – I don't wanna be alone."

John couldn't possibly tell him no, so he sits down in the chair next to Henrik's bed. Much to John's surprise, Henrik seems to be relaxed by his presence.

John knows Henrik won't ever talk about what happened to him when he was 14 again after tonight. It'll be kept to vague allusions and unfinished sentences, to tearful breakdowns where Henrik won't tell John why he's crying and all John will be able to do is hold him, to the same old nights alone where Henrik will kiss John like his life depends on it one second and push him away in panic the next.

Being friends with Henrik – looking after him, even, although John usually tries to pretend that's not what he does, because if Henrik's being looked after then that implies he has serious problems, problems that maybe John needs to get him help for, and John doesn't like seeing it that way – seems to work like this, most of the time. They take one step forward, and two steps back. Henrik will have an emotional breakdown one night, then the next day he won't acknowledge it at all and he'll be back to chatting about upcoming exams or whatever's in the news or anything but the reason he was upset.

Henrik's fallen asleep now, John realises, and he can't help but sit there and watch him for a while. He hopes Henrik's sleeping well, at least. Come morning he'll have quite the hangover to contend with, and John will have to nurse him through it while they pretend the last night didn't happen. John will have to work out how to navigate this in the future, too, how to deal with Henrik's bad nights and refusals to be touched without making him feel uncomfortable or patronised.

But for now, John thinks as he carefully gets up and slips out of the room, at least Henrik can get some sleep.