Henry was panicking.
It was nearly April, and the professor of his mathematics class had just given them their mid-term reports, and Henry was not doing well. If he failed this class, he would lose his scholarship, and losing his scholarship was like losing everything. He would lose his chance to do something bigger with his life. He would lose his chance to prove himself to his father, whatever that looked like. He would lose his opportunity to be at school and learn and chase something bigger than himself.
He would lose Elizabeth.
That, he thought, might have been the scariest part of it all. He'd fallen hard and fast for Elizabeth, and she may not know it yet, but he was pretty convinced that he was going to marry her someday.
But if he was forced to go home and work instead of being able to continue his studies at UVA, especially this late in his degree, he wouldn't be around, and what if Elizabeth didn't want to date long-distance? The thought made him feel even more sick to his stomach than he did already.
Without realizing it, he'd made his way to Elizabeth's building. He'd been so engrossed in his thoughts that he'd allowed his feet to carry him along the familiar path, and now he drew in a breath and headed inside. He wasn't even sure what to say to her, but there was something magnetic about her presence, and he figured if their fairy tale was ending soon, he might as well see her as much as he could in the meantime.
Elizabeth pulled open the door of her apartment in response to Henry's knock, recognizing immediately that something was wrong.
"Henry?" she asked as she stepped aside to allow him into the otherwise-empty dorm room. "Are you okay?" she asked.
Henry shook his head.
"Elizabeth, I'm going to fail," he began. "And if I fail, I'll lose my scholarship. I'll have to go home, and I'll have to let my dad see that I couldn't do it after all, and I'll have to work instead and never leave my hometown. Which would be a huge thing with my family- with my dad- especially now; I only have two semesters left, how insane would it be to fail now? And it's ridiculous anyway, because I've always been a straight-A student, and I have no idea what's going on with me that I'm actually failing a class. I thought I was doing okay in it until I got this report. I'm going to fail and lose my scholarship, and I'll never see you again and-"
Elizabeth had been watching him silently as he unraveled, but at his spoken fear of never seeing her again, she took a step toward him and placed her hands on his shoulders.
"Woah, Henry, slow down," she implored softly. He fell silent, watching her, and she offered him a soft smile, an attempt at reassuring him.
"What do you mean, you're never going to see me again?" she asked.
"I'm going to fail," he repeated. "And then I'll have to go home to Pittsburgh and I won't be here, but you will be here. It'll all just...fall apart."
"Henry, listen," she said imploringly. "I'm not going to...I don't know, break up with you, if you end up having to go back to Pittsburgh. If that happens, you're not losing me. Okay?"
Henry stared at her.
"Oh."
Elizabeth had surprised even herself with such fervent reassurances. It wasn't that she was unsure about her relationship with Henry; in fact, she could see herself spending the rest of her life with him; she just hadn't told him as much. It just wasn't usually her, to be so outward about it. Particularly not in the last few years, when she had lost people by doing that very thing. But when he'd shown up at her door like that, distressed and worrying that he was going to lose her, some instinct had taken over and just like that, she'd surprised them both with her bold declarations.
She took a deep breath, steadying herself, reminding herself that it was okay to be honest with Henry. She trusted him, more than anyone else, and it was still an idea that was taking some getting used to.
"You want to tell me what's going on?" she asked him softly, and Henry sighed.
"I'm failing," he repeated with a helpless sort of shrug as he handed over the midterm report that he was still holding in his hand. Elizabeth's blue eyes scanned the paper efficiently, taking it all in and calculating in her head as she did so.
"Okay," she said when she had finished, looking back at him with something that he thought looked a lot like determination shining in her eyes.
"We can fix this," she declared, and he raised his eyebrows at her.
"We can?" he asked uncertainly.
"Yeah. Henry, come on. I'm a math major. If you do well on that test next week and on every extra credit assignment for the rest of the semester, and you get at least a decent grade on all of the classwork assignments, you might even be able to manage an A. You certainly aren't going to fail. Not with my help, anyway."
He stared at her in sheer wonder for a moment, and then leaned in, lightly pressing his lips against hers.
"You're amazing," he said, and she laughed, turning her head to hide the way she bit her lip in response.
"Come on, let's get started," she said, but as he smiled at her, somewhere in her chest was a warm, familiar feeling that she was pretty sure was what home felt like.
Elizabeth had known that something wasn't right with Henry since she'd arrived at his small, but cozy, off-campus apartment at the end of her day of classes. He'd looked slightly pale and had been less talkative than usual, but when she'd asked if he was alright, he had told her that he was and carried on with what he was doing. She had brushed it aside as best she could, figuring that if something was really wrong, he'd tell her. They'd been dating for the better part of a year, and while Elizabeth still had quite a few of her walls up, she felt more open with Henry than she had with anyone for a long time. That in itself was somewhat scary to her, but she found that she liked having someone she trusted the way she trusted Henry. It was comforting, in its own terrifying way.
Now, she watched him across the kitchen as he worked to prepare dinner. He was moving more slowly than usual and seemed somewhat disoriented, or perhaps just distracted.
"Can I help?" she asked, and he glanced up, offering her a small smile.
"You sure?" he asked. She rolled her eyes.
"I can't cook, but I think I can manage to slice," she replied. Normally, that would have gotten a laugh from him, but this time it didn't. She frowned slightly, but turned her attention to slicing the vegetables he handed over to her. Soon, they found themselves across from one another at Henry's little kitchen table. He pushed his food around on his plate while she ate, barely taking any bites. She had to wonder, what was wrong with him? Was he that worried about his math grade? She had thought they were making a lot of progress and last she checked, he was feeling better about the upcoming test. Or- was it her? The thought had not occurred to her before that moment, but now she found herself panicking internally. What if she had done something to upset him? Now, she wasn't really eating either; instead, she was searching her brain for any clues as to what she could have done to upset Henry to the point that he was barely talking to her. It didn't really make sense, but now that it had occurred to her, she seemed unable to shake the idea from her mind. She looked over at him, and found him watching her.
"Did I do something to upset you?" she asked. "Because you seem so off and I just don't understand."
Suddenly, Henry looked panicked. He looked around and stood, hesitating before his body lurched and he found himself leaning over the sink, vomiting while Elizabeth looked on. He could feel his face flushing with embarrassment, but meanwhile Elizabeth had moved from her seat to stand next to him. Mortified that he was throwing up in front of his girlfriend, having been sure he wouldn't be able to make it to the bathroom, Henry groaned. Elizabeth, meanwhile, was slightly relieved as all the pieces clicked into place. He wasn't upset; he was sick. It made so much sense now. However, her relief was short-lived. She hated seeing him like this; it made her feel as if her heart was breaking inside her chest, a feeling she was not so familiar with. It was another sign of her deep attachment to Henry, but she didn't have time to worry about that now. She ran her hand over his back, her instincts taking over in spite of herself.
"It's okay," she murmured. "It's alright. You're okay."
Henry slammed his eyes closed.
"I'm so sorry," he muttered hoarsely, wincing at the raw feeling in his throat.
"What?" she asked. "For what?"
"This is- you shouldn't have to see this," he sighed in frustration. "I thought I could make it through tonight, I just- I'm sorry, Elizabeth."
"You don't have to be sorry," she assured him softly. "It's okay."
"I should have just cancelled or something, I didn't-" he sighed as he leaned forward over the sink, his head pounding as he rested it in his hands.
"No," she said. "Henry, no. I'm glad you didn't."
"What? Why?" he asked, glancing over at her. She smiled slightly as she leaned in and kissed his head lightly.
"Because if you had, there'd be no one here to take care of you," she admitted shyly. Despite feeling terrible, Henry felt a surge of joy rush through him at her words.
"You want to take care of me?" he asked, and she blushed slightly.
"Of course I do," she said quietly. "Now, stop talking and let me, okay?"
He nodded and she raked her eyes over him.
"You feel okay to move?" she asked. He nodded.
"Alright, come on," she said, reaching out to take his hand. He followed her as she led him to his own bedroom, where she stood before his dresser and pulled out the pair of pajama pants that were the softest she could find. She handed them to him and he smiled slightly at her before he changed, moving slowly to combat the nausea. She stepped into his tiny bathroom and ran cool water over a washcloth before ringing it out and folding it. When she returned, he was dressed and sitting on the edge of his bed.
"Here," she said, and he moved in accordance with her gesture, so that she could draw back the blankets, exposing the cool surface of his sheets. Henry settled gratefully against his pillow and she sat next to him on the edge of the mattress, pressing the cool cloth against his head.
"Better?" she asked. He nodded slightly, closing his eyes.
"I'm going to go and clean up in the kitchen, okay?" she said softly, and then she was gone. With her out of the room, Henry suddenly felt very empty. Earlier, he'd been so embarrassed for her to see him sick, but now that she was no longer at his side, he felt like crying. It was silly, but Henry hated being sick, and something about Elizabeth's presence made him feel better. He tried to convince himself to stop being a baby, but when he found himself on the verge of tears, he swallowed his pride.
"Elizabeth?" he called. She was in the doorway in an instant, watching him with concern.
"You okay?" she asked.
"Can you stay in here?" he asked. The way he sounded tugged at her heart, and Elizabeth wondered to herself when she had become such a softie.
"Of course," she replied. She stepped back to flick the lights off; the kitchen could wait. She settled down next to him and Henry just watched her. She smiled slightly.
"Come here, it's okay," she encouraged. Henry was normally quite confident; it was interesting, in a way, to see this new, hesitant side of him.
"I don't want to get you sick."
"Henry, babe, I just cleaned your vomit out of your sink, I think we're past that." Henry sighed at that, and Elizabeth immediately backtracked.
"No, it's okay," she assured him. "I honestly didn't think anything of it. Don't worry, okay?"
At her soft, but insistent tone, Henry relented and snuggled closer to her, his head on her shoulder.
"There," she breathed. Her heart was beating erratically and she had a faint desire to run, but the way he snuggled against her made something warm within her chest and she took a steadying breath as she ran her fingers through his hair.
"Just close your eyes, okay?" she said quietly. "I've got you."
And in that moment, even though he felt like death warmed over, Henry couldn't imagine wanting to be anywhere but right there in her arms.