Alex felt guilty for this. He found himself in the same kitchen he had seen the real Henry in a little over a year ago. It's hard to believe Henry went from being someone Alex thought he hated, to the boy currently sleeping in his bed. That's why he was doing this in the kitchen, over the sink. Because Henry was sound asleep in his bed. He felt almost safer here. Yes, the kitchen didn't have a lockable door, but it was much further down the corridor than the guest bathroom was. He didn't even have a reason for it this time. He just wanted to do it. Or maybe he did have a reason, but the lack of sleep and excessive amounts of coffee had erased it from his memory.
He gingerly rolled up his hoodie sleeve, taking one last look at the pristine skin. He had decided earlier in the day that he wanted to move up his arm. He had kept all of his cutting hidden under a small stack of bracelets that he nearly never took off. But now, he didn't care. It's not like he wore short sleeves anyway, and he could brush it off to Henry as a scratch from doing something so stupidly simple, only Alex could get injured doing it. Next, he took off his bracelets and set them on the counter beside the sink he stood in front of. They revealed a thick patch of thin white scars overlapping each other, 2 years worth of stress and self-hatred.
Alex let out a long, deep sigh. He was stalling and he knew it. He dug a small, wrapped-up razorblade out of his hoodie pocket. He carefully opened the seal on the wrapping, being sure not to tear the little thing. Usually, he would use the same blade over and over until it rusts or eventually dulls. Now, he couldn't give a damn and used a fresh blade, because why the hell not.
If Henry were here, he would tell Alex to stop, and that he's a fucking dumbass and this was certainly not the way to go about things. But Henry wasn't here. He was asleep in Alex's room (the Kensington palace guest bedroom) and he deserved that sleep. Alex was certainly not going to wake the sleeping man because he felt a bit sad.
He placed his arm across the sink, elbow propped up on the thin piece of counter in front of it. The light shining from the ceiling was dim, but it was good enough. Taking the blade in his thumb, pointer, and middle finger, Alex pressed it firmly to the space just under the left crook of his elbow. With one quick motion and maintaining pressure, he pulled the blade horizontal across his forearm. The skin split open, revealing an almost white layer underneath the laceration that slowly beaded and filled with blood, barely enough to drip down his arm and into the sink.
The skin around the cut became warm and red, and just a bit puffy. If Alex had paid attention to his freshman year bio class, maybe he could tell you why. But Alex didn't pay attention, so he couldn't. He can, however, tell you it felt good . The pain is ice cold, turned to a tingly searing heat. He grabs a paper towel from its holder beside the sink and dabs the blood away from the cut. He gets a glimpse of the half-centimeter wide slice before it's covered by a small amount of blood again.
And it does what it's supposed to. It helps Alex feel ok. It takes the too much off of his shoulders for a bit. He repeats the action 4 more times down his arm, before making a diagonal across the first cut. It looks like a misshapen x. The width of his forearm is shredded and stained with blood and stung, but he kept going. Somewhere between the 6th and 8th cut, he had gotten so engrossed in the action that he failed to hear soft footsteps coming up the corridor, the slight creak of the bathroom door's hinges, and a small gasp from the entrance where the corridor and kitchen met. He had not noticed that Henry had entered the kitchen and gotten a perfect view of what Alex was doing.
Henry quietly strode across the remaining space between them. He pushed his front into Alex's back, pinning him against the sink. A gentle ' you arent going anywhere' without having to say it. That snapped Alex out of it. Before he could get a word out, a hand was snaked around Alex's side and pressed firmly into his chest, while another gently removed the blade from his hand.
They stood there like that for a moment, Alex firmly grounded to reality through points of contact (one of those now including Henry's chin on his shoulder).
When Alex first speaks, it's barely above a whisper. "Hi, Henry"
"Hello love, you weren't in bed" Henry replies, matching his volume.
Alex shifts and turns to face his boyfriend, shifting his arm to stay in the sink. He doesn't want to be a burden and get blood on the floor, it would be nearly impossible to clean. Henry reaches behind him grabs a paper towel, as well as Alex's arm, and starts to ever so carefully dab away the blood.
"Look, I'm sorry. You don't have to-" Alex tries to pitch in before his lips are met with a soft, gentle kiss from Henry.
"Shush, you have nothing to apologize for. And I will have none of that ' but I do ' or ' you don't have to ' or God forbid ' I deserve it ' nonsense".
If Alex wasn't so tired, he'd laugh at Henry's pathetic attempt at an American accent. But he is tired, so instead of laughing, he leans his head into Henry's chest in a way where he's still able to see Alex's arm. After a moment of silence, one of Henry's hands lifts to Alex's chin, tilting it upward. His tired, anxious eyes meet Henry's worried ones. Another quick kiss is pressed to Alex's lips.
" I need to go grab something, can you be here by yourself? I promise I'll only be a moment"
With a nod of confirmation, Henry reaches behind Alex, grabs the discarded blade, and exits the kitchen. While he waits, Alex moves to sit at the dining table. Henry returns after just a few minutes, holding a first aid kit and one of Henry's hoodies. The items are placed on the table, and Alex turns to face his chair towards the man, now sitting next to him. Alex lets Henry take his arm, wipe the cuts with a disinfectant (which he begrudgingly notes smells like bug spray), and wrap the wound. They remain silent as Alex slips off his own hoodie, puts on Henry's, and is led back to the bedroom. After settling into a comfortable position (Henry leaning against the pillows while his hand cards through Alex's hair from where he's laying on his lap) do they start to talk.
"it's not that easy to ask for help, is it? I mean, I knew you would have been there, would have helped me, but starting off and asking for it is just…"
"Hard?" Henry fills in. "Bea had trouble asking for help, and while I don't know exactly how to help you, I could try? If you'd let me, that is."
" Why would you want to? Don't you find this gross, or weird, or-" Alex is interrupted by a hand being placed on his cheek. He glances up to meet Henry's eyes.
"No, I don't. I do not think that of you, or what you are doing, or any of this. It's not weird, or gross nor do I hate you for it. The most I can say is I'm upset you think you deserve this, Alex. You don't, and I will happily send Shaan after anyone who makes you think otherwise. God knows what that man can do and that he's not afraid to do it."
Alex hummed his acknowledgment, followed by a stifled giggle at the thought of Shaan personally assassinating someone on Alex's behalf.
" you know," Henry said after a moment. "Bea said the same thing when I found out about her cocaine addiction. And you know what we did?"
Alex pushed himself up to sit in Henry's lap and buried his face in the crook of his neck. He breathed out a soft "hm?"
"Well, we got her help. We got her a therapist and rehab, and she- she's better now. And I know you can't stop so abruptly, that's not how it works. We had to learn the hard way, that stopping all at once just made things worse, but we figured it out eventually."
Alex's hand swept the bedspread, searching for and taking hold of Henry's hand. He felt safe, and at home in Henry's arms. It made the cutting feel like it did hardly anything at all to remove the stress and pain and anxiety.
It took effort, but Alex was able to string together a coherent few sentences. "I think we should tell Bea and Shaan tomorrow, they probably have a wide variety of therapists and resources, yeah? Unless you think this whole thing would maybe trigger them and make them feel worse too…?"
"I think it's a good start, and it won't trigger them, I don't think" Henry replied "but for now, sleep would benefit us both"
"definitely" Alex replied sleepily.
And with that, both of them settled properly under the duvet and snuggled closely in each other's arms. Love can't fix everything, but it sure can help set the path. It will take time, and navigating through a few bumps in the road, but things will get better eventually