"Algebra makes no sense."
Nate dramatically flops his head on his algebra book with a groan, and Alex chuckles. "Let me see."
He leans in, squinting at the textbook. Why on earth do they insist on printing these things in font sizes suitable for ants? He looks around, then pats his pockets, frowning when he comes up empty. He could've sworn he left his glasses on the kitchen island earlier when Nate sat down to do his homework.
Nate clears his throat, barely containing a smirk. "On your nose, Abuelo."
Alex's hand flies to his nose, encountering the familiar metal frame. Huh.
He meets Nate's mocking gaze. "Not a word."
"Grandpa said…"
"Yeah, yeah, I know what Grandpa said. Last I checked, he wasn't the boss of me, and neither are you. Now, about this algebra problem..."
A sinking feeling settles in his stomach as Alex peers at the jumble of letters and numbers. Math was never exactly his forte, and he's realizing — with increasing horror — that he's in way over his head. Especially considering this is a subject he studied several decades ago and promptly ejected from his brain the moment he tossed his graduation cap. And yes, he's painfully aware that algebra is supposedly useful in everyday life. Like right now, it'd be great to calculate the odds of him solving this problem without looking like a complete idiot.
"You know what?" Alex says, straightening up with sudden inspiration. "I think we should call Aunt Nora."
He grabs his phone, but Nate puts his hand on his arm.
"Can I ask you a question first?"
Alex puts the phone back on the island. "Of course, sweetheart. Something on your mind?"
"How did you and Grandpa meet?"
Alex smiles. "Ah. Well, this is a funny story, actually…"
️
52 years earlier
Alex doesn't know much about Henry, but he made a list of what he knows.
Name: Henry, as previously stated. He knows because he heard the barista call him for his drink a few times when Henry arrived after him.
Location: The same coffee shop in Brooklyn that Alex frequents.
Accent: British. Alex was right behind him once when he ordered, and he's not ashamed to say he almost swooned when he heard it.
Routine: Sits in the same booth, sipping his Earl Grey and daintily nibbling on a cherry tart. Every. Single. Day. Every time Alex watches those plump lips bite into the pastry, he risks a fucking coronary.
Physical Attributes:
Shoulders broad enough to make the Hulk jealous.
Legs that go on for miles, and don't get Alex started on those thighs.
Hair tawny and soft-looking as fuck.
Mesmerizing blue eyes.
Beauty mark above plump lips that are probably illegal in several states.
Occupation: Always on his laptop or his nose buried in a book. Probably a student or secretly writing the next great British novel. Or both. An overachiever like Alex.
Sexuality Crisis: Alex had no fucking idea he was into guys until now. Or maybe he's just into Henry. He's not putting a label on anything until he talks to June and Nora about it.
Mission: Ask Henry out.
But well.
Uncharted territory here.
However, today, as Henry gathered his things to leave, he looked directly at Alex and offered a small, almost shy smile.
That's all the encouragement Alex needs.
️
"So, uh, there's this guy. At the coffee shop."
Nora snorts and mutters, "Finally," and June elbows her..
"What guy, little bit?
"His name is Henry. He comes every day at the same time as me." He rattles off his mental checklist of everything Henry, though without waxing poetic about it. He doesn't need Nora to look even more smugly and gleeful than she already does. He focuses on June who listens to him attentively with a soft smile on her face.
"-and when he left this morning, he fucking looked at me and smiled."
"Did you talk to him?"
"Not yet."
"Why?" Nora asks, and Alex glares at her.
"I'm trying to wrap my head around the fact that I'm attracted to someone with a penis, Nora."
"Well, hurry up because if he's as dreamy as you describe, somebody else will snatch his penis from under your nose."
"For all I know, he's not into other penises at all anyway."
June sigh. "Can we please remove the word 'penis' from this conversation?"
"Sorry, Bug. I'm just not sure how to make a move here."
"Try spilling coffee on him. That always works in rom-coms," Nora suggests with a grin.
Alex gapes at her, horrified. "Do you know what coffee costs, Nora? I'm not wasting it—even for a potential soulmate."
June chimes in, "You said he likes to read. Ask for his favorite book or author. Simple conversation starter."
Alex flashes his sister a grateful smile. "Simple is good. I can do simple."
️
He doesn't do simple.
️
The next day, Alex sits at his table, discreetly observing Henry drinking his tea, nibbling at his cherry tart, and wondering how and when to make his move. He thinks about getting another coffee, but his leg is already bouncing up and down like a metronome, and his pen taps a rapid rhythm against the page of his book, earning him a glare from the person sitting at the next table.
So, more caffeine is not an option. He doesn't want to be a fidgety, jittery mess when he finally talks to Henry.
Just as Alex finally finds the courage to get up and walk over to the object of his affection, Henry frowns at his phone before getting up and stepping out. His bag and book are left on the table, meaning he'll be back momentarily.
And that's when Alex has a lightbulb moment. A real stroke of genius, if he dares say so himself.
Scooping up his bag, he saunters to Henry's table and plops down, playing with his empty mug, casually pretending he's been waiting for a while.
Henry strolls back in, and the sight of Alex settled in his booth makes him freeze, confusion evident on his face.
"For a second there, I thought you were going to ghost me on our first date," Alex says, trying to keep his tone light and playful.
"I… what?" Henry blinks, slowly sinking into his seat, a mix of caution and surprise on his face.
"You were about to tell me about your favorite author."
Henry's lips quiver slightly, and Alex's heart stutters. Fuck, he didn't think for a minute that his impulsive stunt might actually work.
"Was I now?" he asks, tilting his head in a way that Alex finds incredibly endearing.
"I'm all ears, sweetheart."
Henry's eyes widen, and a charming blush blooms across his cheeks. Alex thinks he couldn't possibly find Henry more attractive—but well, here we are.
"It's Jane Austen," Henry begins, only to shake his head, a startled smile spreading across his face. "Excuse me, who are you again?"
Alex clutches his heart dramatically, feigning a look of deep offense. "Do you mean to say you were gone for all of five minutes and already forgot my name? I'm hurt, Henry!"
Henry raises an eyebrow at Alex using his name, amusement dancing in his eyes. "How utterly uncouth of me. It's been a long week—would you mind reintroducing yourself?"
"It's Alex," he replies, unable to suppress his grin.
"Well, Alex," Henry says with a smirk as he starts gathering his things, "even though I wasn't aware I was on a date, I'm sure it was delightful. Unfortunately, I do have to run now."
He seems more amused than upset, and Alex takes it as a small victory. He keeps his hopes in check, deciding not to push his luck or ask for Henry's number just yet.
As Henry stands to leave, Alex says, "I'll see you around," trying to sound nonchalant.
Henry pauses, turning slightly with an amused glint in his eye. "That sounds suspiciously like a threat."
Alex can't help but laugh, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Consider it a promise."
"Still sounds ominous," Henry quips, his smile widening as he walks toward the front door. He glances one last time at Alex before disappearing through the door.
Alex leans back in his seat with a satisfied smile.
️
The following day, still riding high on the confidence from their first encounter, Alex boldly slides into Henry's booth, coffee in hand, as if they're effortlessly picking up where they left off. His heart dances in his chest with excitement and nerves, teetering between confidence and the fear of a still very probable rejection.
"Sorry I'm late, sweetheart," he drawls, cranking up the charm to a dazzling thousand watts, and he can't help but notice the way Henry's eyes spark with interest.
"Alex. Making good on that threat, I see," Henry replies, a teasing edge to his voice that sends a spark of exhilaration through Alex.
"I'm nothing if not reliable," he retorts, batting his eyelashes for good measure.
But then Henry's expression shifts slightly, his brow furrowing. "So if I told you that this," he gestures between them, "made me uncomfortable and asked you to leave, would you?"
"Oh, obviously. Just say the word, and I'm gone," Alex responds, his tone suddenly serious.
The playful banter takes a backseat as a wave of concern washes over him. Fuck, did he misread the signs? He can't shake the fear that he might have overstepped, pushing too hard too soon. The last thing he wants is for this interaction to spiral into an uncomfortable situation that would paint him as a complete fucking creep. He takes a deep breath, reminding himself that just because yesterday was fun doesn't mean Henry isn't feeling awkward or apprehensive right now.
Henry nods thoughtfully, biting his lower lip as he takes a sip of his tea. Alex watches, heart racing with a whirlwind of hope and anxiety.
"Do you want me to back off?" he asks, genuinely ready to take off and find another coffee shop on the other side of town.
Henry places his cup down on the table, looks right at Alex, and a warm smile breaks across his face. "No."
The tension lifts, and Alex releases a breath he didn't know he was holding. There's a sudden electric spark in the air between them, and his smile mirrors Henry's, relief and excitement flooding through him.
They settle into an easy conversation, and as they talk, it becomes clear to Alex just how much they have in common. They share anecdotes about their classes, the stress of maintaining decent grades, and the havoc it wreaks on their already terrible sleeping patterns. With each laugh and nod of understanding, Alex is genuinely thrilled. He thought Henry was incredibly handsome, but he had no idea he'd also be this smart, bitingly witty, and, best of all, kind of a giant fucking nerd, just like him.
(There is a fleeting moment where Alex almost considers making a dramatic exit when Henry mentions his less-than-stellar, frankly terrible opinion about his favorite Star Wars movie. But Alex decides to be magnanimous and offers him a second chance.)
The conversation veers between their favorite books and growing up with a protective older sister, and time flies, and it's all so effortless and genuine. Until Alex suddenly glances at the clock, his stomach dropping. "Oh shit, I have a class in fifteen minutes. Professeur Bankston locks the door and doesn't let anyone in if you're late."
Henry looks taken aback by Alex's sudden rush, but then a warm, understanding smile spreads across his face. "Of course. Go ahead. I suppose I'll see you soon."
And even though the words lack a question mark, Alex still hears the hopeful note and stops for a second to give Henry a wide grin. "Definitely," he says, and before he can second guess himself, he leans in and plants a soft kiss on Henry's cheek.
Propelled by a mix of adrenaline and glee, Alex dashes out.
Only once he's settled in the auditorium, entirely out of breath and a bit sweaty, he realizes he forgot to get Henry's number and curses a bit too loudly, earning a whithering glare from Professor Bankston.
That's okay; he will see Henry on Monday anyway.
️
On Monday, Henry's not there.
He doesn't come in on Tuesday or Wednesday either, and with each passing day, Alex feels his heart sink just a little deeper. By Thursday, it feels like his heart's dropped all the way to his knees. He stares blankly at the pages of his book, the words blurring into a meaningless jumble, while the grey, dreary sky outside mirrors his mood perfectly.
He knew it would be too much, that he would be too much. Too pushy. That impulsive kiss had surely crossed a line. Henry has just been too nice to say so, and Alex has come to the disheartening conclusion that he's probably sitting in another coffee shop somewhere, grateful for the chance to sip his tea in peace without the boisterous presence of an annoying law student.
His belly rumbles, and he decides to treat himself to one of those cherry tarts Henry seemed to favor. He figures if his fucking heart is going to be broken, at least his stomach can be happy.
With a tart and another coffee in hand, he returns to his table, ready to wallow in his melancholy dessert, only to stop dead in his tracks. There, seated comfortably, is Henry, an unmistakable grin lighting up his face.
"Thanks for the cherry tart, darling," Henry says, eyes sparkling, as he gestures to the pastry. "But, where's my tea?"
In that instant, the weight of disappointment lifts off Alex's shoulders, replaced by a rush of joy. "Coming right up, sweetheart."
They start an easy conversation again, and Alex doesn't pry on Henry's absence. After a few minutes, Henry pulls out his phone, his face taking a more serious hue.
"I want to give you my number, but before I do, there are some things you need to know."
Alex raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Okay, hit me with it."
Henry takes a deep breath, and Alex gives him all his attention and doesn't interrupt as Henry shares about his depression and anxiety, how he misses his father every day, and how all those things hit him sometimes, revealing how those heavy moments can render him paralyzed, trapped in his head where the simple notion of adulthood feels completely unattainable. He has no choice but to go through it, although he's been committed to working on it these past few months. Alex takes his hand, and when Henry is done, he feels safe enough to share his own fears and insecurities, as well as the insidious way his mind can betray him sometimes when he needs clarity the most.
As the world around them fades, in that sacred space, they quietly and honestly share their vulnerabilities, finding solace and forging a meaningful connection in just a few hours.
They both miss their classes that afternoon, but it barely registers as they are caught up in a moment that feels distinctly important.
They are teetering on the brink of something fragile but also precious and invaluable, and if Henry is willing, Alex is more than ready to jump.
️
They kiss on their fifth date.
They are having an after-dinner stroll on the High Line, hand in hand. They stop to admire the sun setting, casting a golden glow on the Hudson. When Henry turns to him, a soft, genuine smile lights up his face. Their eyes meet, and their lips join in a kiss that feels like the most natural thing in the world.
"Baby," Alex murmurs against Henry's lips, the new term of endearment slipping out naturally, filled with affection and warmth.
"Love," Henry replies, the word tumbling softly from his mouth, rich with meaning. Alex feels his heart swell at the sound, savoring the sweetness of the moment and being struck with an unmistakable certainty.
He found the love of his life.
️
"So what you're saying is that you basically arm-wrestled Grandpa into a date with you," Nate teases, a grin spreading across his face.
Alex gives him his best stern look. "Did you listen to a single word I said?"
"I can assure you, I was a very willing participant," Henry chimes in, walking into the kitchen. He finds his way into Alex's arms, and Alex hums happily as they exchange a soft kiss.
"Did you have a good nap, baby?"
"Indeed, my love. Quite invigorating. Thank you," Henry says as he takes the steamy cup of tea Alex has prepared and leans in again, eyes sparkling as he asks for another kiss. Alex is only too happy to oblige.
Nate watches them with a mixture of amusement and fondness. "I love that you guys still kiss even after being together for like, a gazillion years."
Henry nearly chokes on his tea, and Alex snorts. They exchange a knowing look, a silent conversation passing between them. Alex raises an eyebrow playfully, and Henry tries to hide his smile behind his mug, but it doesn't conceal the rosy tint spreading across his cheeks.
Does Alex feel extremely smug that he can still make his husband blush after half a century together?
Fuck yeah, he does.
"A gazillion years might be a bit of an exaggeration, darling," Henry says.
"We're definitely getting there, especially with you creeping toward eighty soon," Alex quips, squeezing Henry's waist, grinning when it elicits a small yelp from his husband.
"I'm seventy-six, thank you very much, and do I have to remind your obviously shaky memory that you're only one year younger? Remind me, who needs new prescription glasses? Don't think I didn't notice you squinting at everything you look at."
Nate opens his mouth, but Alex shoots him a warning look, and his grandson wisely thinks better of it.
"What were you talking about?" Henry inquires, leaning against the kitchen island.
"I asked Abuelo to tell me how you two met."
"Ah yes," Henry says, his eyes lighting up at the memory, and his lips curve into a nostalgic smile as he gives Alex a fond look before turning back to Nate. "Any particular reason you wanted to know, my love?"
Nate wiggles on his chair, blushing slightly. "You know my friend Thomas?"
As Nate talks about his friend whom he thinks he likes more than a friend and Henry gives their grandson his undivided attention, Alex wraps his arm around his husband, puts his chin on his shoulder, and congratulates himself once again on the wild, impulsive idea that sparked one morning in his head in a Brooklyn coffee shop.