Henry paced the piano room. He wasn't sure what he should do, but he knows he can't talk to Alex. They had grown too attached, they love each other, and Henry knows that once they open that floodgate there is no turning back. He was loyal to Britain, loyal to his family whether he wanted to be or not. He took a seat on the bench, holding his breath. Maybe if he holds it long enough, he'll evaporate into thin air. That's juvenile, he thinks, no matter how much I want to disappear, I can't–and holding my breath won't change that.

"Hen?" Bea pops her head into the practice room. "I'm heading to bed. JUst wanted to make sure you were okay." He had told her about Alex on their walk earlier that day, and he knew she secretly wasn't supportive of him ending things just to protect the Crown. That's what he was protecting–not himself.

Henry takes a second to compose himself before taking another deep breath. "I'm fine," he whispers. "I'll let you know if I need anything, just please give me some alone time."

Bea nods and closes the door behind her. Henry stares at the closed door, and imagines Alex walking through it, dopey smile on his face and all. He imagines everything being okay again.

Henry's hand flies to his upper thigh. He hasn't cut himself in years, but during stressful situations he found himself touching the area, rubbing the scars to see if any residual pain will flow out of his heart and into his thigh.

It never does.

He never thought he'd stay clean his whole life, and when his dad found out, he knew he had to stop. He couldn't disappoint his father–not anymore than he already had. But his dad wasn't here to stop him, and honestly that made it easier to give up control again. Give into the pain. Let it all out.

Henry saunters out of the practice room and into his bathroom. He slowly slides down his sweatpants, caressing the faint scars that line his upper thigh like a mosaic of all things wrong with his life. All the shame, all the hurt, all the pain. He lets a tear slip before Shaan is knocking on the door.

"Sir? Mr. Claremont-Diaz is on his way–he just landed," he calmly says through the door.

"For fucks sake." Henry mutters, pulling up his sweatpants. He quickly opens the door, facing his equerry. "What's he doing?"

"I'm assuming he wants to see you, sir."

"Fuck," Henry whispers. He wipes his eye, hoping Shaan doesn't notice the tears forming. "I don't know what to do."

"I'll do whatever you want me to do with him sir. If you want, we caan let him in the main gates but not let him inside the palace, so he doesn't make a fuss outside the gate."

Henry pauses for a moment. "Yeah, that's [probably for the best. Let him cause a fuss then make him leave."

However it was no use, because now they're hashing it out in the middle of his part of Kensington.

—

Henry woke up in Alex's arms. Safety. Security. So this is love, he thinks, I could get used to waking up in his arms. Then, he remembers what happened last night. The fight, what he said. God why did he say those things? Obviously it isn't easy for Alex, obviously he's risking a lot. Alex's arm around him felt less like love and more like pity. He wasn't good enough for someone to fight for him. He wasn't strong enough. He didn't deserve someone like Alex. He didn't deserve someone at all.

Slowly, he lifts Alex's arm and slides out from under him, trying not to wake him. If Alex knew what he was about to do, he would put a stop to it. And Henry didn't want to be stopped.

He quickly throws on some underwear and stands up. He closes his eyes and starts his walk of shame to the bathroom. His mind is, for once, clear. He feels ready to accept the punishment he's about to give himself. He feels free, not like he's trapped in the Royal Family.

He closes the door softly and removes his boxers. His breathing picks up a little, staring at the faded scars, but it's less anxiety and more anticipation of adding to these scars. Adding to the pain. Adding to his body in a way no one will ever see.

He reaches in his drawer and finds his pack of razors. Butterflies of excitement (and maybe some anxiety) erupted in his stomach. He felt ready to relapse. He felt like he deserved it. He felt like it was time for him. He knew he deserved it.

The blade slid across his skin, and he threw his head back in ecstasy. He was so caught up in the feeling that he didn't hear a knock at the door. Two knocks. Three knocks and a soft "Henry."

The knob turns and there's Alex, watching in horror as he watches the man he loves punishing himself and enjoying it . "Baby," he whispers as if his heart broke the moment he opened the door.

Henry's head whips around. Panicked blue eyes meet hurt brown eyes. "Alex. Um, It's not what it looks like." His hand is frozen in place, blade motionless deep in his thigh.

"H, I know what it looks like, and I know what it is." He whispers, taking small steps towards him. "Please, baby. Put it down."

Henry closes his eyes and exhales sharply as he slowly pulls the razor from his skin. He lifts his hand up to the bathroom counter and sets down the bloody blade. "I'm sorry, Alex, you weren't supposed to find out."

"Here, let me help." Alex says, grabbing some toilet paper and softly bringing it to the other man's thigh.

Once Henry is cleaned up, he slides his boxers back on and gives a sad smile as they walk back to his bed. "I'm sorry. Seriously you weren't supposed to see, or know."

They get back to his bed and Henry lays down first. Alex pulls him into his chest as Henry starts to cry.

"Henry, I've seen you naked," he says, matter-of-factly. "I've seen your scars. I know you used to, I just didn't know it was still a problem."

"It's the first time since before my dad died. I promise."

"Did he know?"

Henry nods. "Same way you found out. Nobody else knows."

Alex purses his lips, holding Henry tighter. "How did he react?"

"It broke his heart. That's the day I came out to him, and while he never fully understood, he could accept that the pressure on me to live a life that differs from my authentic self was a lot. He made me promise I'd never do it again. He took away my razors, and watched me shave for about a month. He never told anyone, though. Guess I broke that promise."

"It's okay, Henry. I won't watch you shave or take away your razors, partly because there's an entire country between us, but I am going to ask that you make that same promise to me." Henry feels a tear escape his eyes as he gulps.

"But I broke the promise already." He chokes out.

"Please, Henry." Alex begs. He has not begged for very much in his life, but he'll beg for Henry and his safety.

Henry sighs. "I…I promise. I promise to not cut." His voice was barely above a whisper, hoping that nobody else would hear him.

"God, I wish there weren't all these stupid rules and you could get the help you need."

Henry just nods and nuzzles deeper into Alex's chest. This was the moment he knew that he'd never be able to let Alex go, and that he'll take any and all bricks thrown at him in order to keep Alexander Gabriel Claremont-Diaz forever.