thatsallthereis | [For Henry]

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henry

[For Henry]

Silence, Gansey had told himself, was the thing that kept him up at night. When everything stopped, all that was left were questions, and when he was too tired to think of answers, it was (for lack of a better term) a shitstorm.

Great. Two weeks with Ronan and he was already thinking compound words with no Oxford English equal.

Silence, however, was hard to come by in Hywel. The animals shuffled and bleated below. There was a goat that Gansey swore was being bribed to keep him tense. The damn thing screamed, fainted, and the first time that happened, Gansey'd nearly had a heart attack. Strange city, no way out, weird things happened, and the thing that bothered Gansey the most was a goat with a name from the Greek pantheon. The whole thing, really, was quite unsettling.

But Adam was happy. Ronan was happy. Noah was happy and he was there. He couldn't tell if Blue was happy, but she was there and he hoped he could have a stake in her happiness. Hywel was incomplete without her. Without Henry.

Gansey sat up. It was nearly 4am and that meant that he'd missed his chance to sleep. Usually he was up around 6 regardless of variables. This was a time of night that made him tense when he saw it, because he could anticipate the fatigue of the next day. Not that he had anything to be doing other than what he was doing: pacing the corridor around his bed, stepping over books and recently-purchased-and-carelessly-discarded clothing. Those things made him want to check his bank account balance. He was afraid to. That was not something he'd ever done before.

Are you awake? Gansey fingers hesitated over the new keyboard and he had to pause to remember how to find Cheng in his contacts.

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They drove in relative silence. The silence between them, quiet of the radio, and Henry thought that this was likely not how the drive to Tulsa had been. He wouldn't have been able to stand it. But, just then, he couldn't bring himself to hear a single word of this roadtrip he would never get to see the start of finish of.

When they reached the gym, Henry delayed getting out a moment. He had another sip of coffee. He made sure his shoes were tied. He futzed with his unstyled hair. Finally, he hauled himself out of the Pig and, this time, he slammed the door shut. It did not feel resounding. It felt final.

"Gansey," he said. Then, he lost the words. He tucked his hands up into his armpits because he had no pockets in his swim trunks.

"Cheng," Gansey mimicked, smiling as he slammed his door. When he spun to do so, he saw that Henry looked stricken. The smile slipped from his face.

"What's up?" Henry's hair was somewhat unkempt. He had been sleeping. Henry was working hard on his internship with Iron Man and trying to navigate life without RoboBee and trying to rebuilt friendships he didn't know he'd made. Henry needed sleep, and Gansey felt selfish for calling him.

Henry was quiet a moment, rocking on his heels and then his toes and back. Finally, he laughed about the spectacle he was making. Not saying anything was far more suspicious and worrisome than just spitting it out, after all.

"I don't know how to swim, Richardman," he said. He shrugged and smiled sheepishly, lifting his hands from his armpits and into the air in gentle supplication. "The wettest I get is in the shower."

Oh.

Gansey wondered if this was something he'd been insensitive about. Not once in his room, on the drive over, or even in the time they'd known each other had it occurred to him that Henry couldn't swim. It must have come up. It had to. Every time they were in a location with a pool for more than a day, Gansey hit it as many times as possible. Hadn't Henry come with him?

No. Not a single time. At the time, Gansey had figured Henry saw it as his alone-time. Gansey was floored for no other reason than he'd assumed. It felt exactly like the kind of thing Blue railed at him about.

All of his questions to Cheng boiled down to one, and in the name of maintaining transparency with those he loved and needed most, he jumped straight to it. "Why did you come?" And then, softer, "we could have done something else." Anything else. He hovered by the car. They had the option to leave if Henry wanted it.

Why did you come was so momentarily accusatory that Henry wasn't sure what to do with it besides hold it gently in his hands. He cupped the back of his neck in his fingers and considered this. Here they stood, in these dark, small hours of the morning, the brief moments of cool before another warm summer day, and Henry came because Gansey had asked it of him.

He stepped away from the car and toward Gansey. He slapped him gently on the arm, pushing to turn him away from the Pig and toward the gym.

"Let me worry about me, Third. If worst comes to worst, there's the whole rest of the gym for me to explore."

Gansey was led and he let it happen, because if Henry couldn't be unafraid, he'd be afraid and happy.

"I could teach you a few things," Gansey offered. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "if you like." If not, he hoped Henry would be content to keep him company. Swimming alone at 4am made the possibility of silence more dangerous than productive.

They reached the door and Gansey held it open. "We don't have to stay too long." Just long enough to find peace. Just an hour or so away from the Goddamn chickens.

Henry smiled, not just polite but warmed, at the prospect. It was daunting, of course. Learning new things always was. But it was Gansey, and Henry's trust in him was a whole thing. There was nothing that could not be accomplished in these quiet, small hours.

The inside of the gym smelled like sweat and antiseptic and chlorine, and Henry was reminded of the gym he went to when he was back in Vancouver for holidays for a moment. That was comforting as well.

"We'll try," he said with a nod. "I am a very dutiful student."

Henry entered and Gansey followed. Quickly, he fell into step with the boy, taking in the ambiance (all gyms were the same, but the feeling one got inside was universal), navigating toward the pool. Gansey flashed Ronan's membership card. They didn't ask for ID and Gansey knew they wouldn't.

"I've no doubt we can accomplish whatever we put our minds to," Gansey said, side-stepping to grab the door into the pool area. There was no one else there and a collection of the timed lights had turned off. The reflection of the pool on the wall was an eerie, perfectly rectangular glow. This phenomenon always struck Gansey as oddly beautiful, when he didn't remember that Chlorine was responsible for the hue.

There were no sandals in Richard Gansey's wardrobe; not in Henrietta, and not in Darrow. In Virginia, they weren't practical. In Darrow, Gansey simply couldn't be bothered to buy more than one pair of non-dress shoes. They were easy enough to discard, and Gansey kicked them under a chair, draped his shirt haphazardly over the back of his newly claimed chair.

"Last chance, Cheng." He headed toward the diving board: a destination that he certainly did not expect Henry to take. In just a few seconds -- as soon as Henry checked in -- he could curl his toes against the board and feel his heart fit to burst in anticipation of the silence that came with the headlong plunge forward. Whatever came after that, he knew he could deal with it.

It was easy to smile, to nod, to follow along as a shadow to Gansey's presidential presence. When they reached the pool, Henry was a step ahead of Gansey stripping down to only his swim trunks. He did his best not to look at Gansey. It was a talent gained from housing with multiple boys and gym class locker rooms. Privacy was a commodity that few were allowed in lives like theirs.

When he looked back, Gansey was nearing the diving board already. That was a swift transition from the formality of boys just being at the gym to boys who were getting ready for the pool. That was a lot of back. That was a lot of legs.

"I think I'll climb in," Henry said, looking at the edges of the pool for the depth markers. If he could find a point that was shallower than he was tall, than it would be alright getting in and out.

"I'll meet you there," Gansey said, nearly apologetic as he took the step up onto the diving board. The spring below was especially sensitive and Gansey's heart ticked up another notch as soon as his toes curled over the edge, just as he'd thought. The water was still, save for what filtered at the edges, at the bottom, just below where Gansey would land. His lips curled up serenely. He bent his knees and dove in.

Silence, the likes of which was nearly unparalleled. This was the sort of quiet he'd only been able to achieve in pools before he met Blue. Underneath the surface, there was no ambient noise, no questions, no city confines he couldn't escape. There was no Ronan casting him mistrustful glances, no Blue keeping her distance and keeping him confused. It was just Gansey and Cabeswater and silence. Gansey wanted to stay there forever.

He didn't. Without resurfacing, he kicked off the bottom of the pool and cut through the water to where Henry was. He didn't come up until he was well able to stand, over by the stairs on the opposite side where Henry was wading in. Part of him feared he'd appear to be showing off; he didn't like that, especially not when all he wanted was peace. At least with Henry, there was a chance all of that serenity wouldn't wick away like the water from his skin. On his way up to smooth out his hair, he splashed Henry lightly.

It was remarkable to watch Gansey dive. Henry had to pause and catch his breath for a moment. His toes curled against the cool tile around the pool, and he made himself shuffle along, keeping an eye on the way that Gansey moved under the water, how his shoulders shifted, his arms, the shift of his legs.

Put your feet on the stairs, idiot, Henry told himself when he found them, at a depth that would be appropriately shallow enough to not make him nervous. It was near the end of the pool. He felt a little bit like an idiot.

The water was cool but not unpleasant. It wrapped around his feet, his legs, and held him gently. He held onto the stairs, and then put his feet on the bottom of the pool.

When he turned around, Gansey splashed him. Henry was almost positive it was intentional. He sputtered for a moment, shocked and gaping, and then he dug his elbow up through the water in an attempt to splash him back. It was not nearly as successful. That made his ears feel hot.

Gansey's shallow facade of a mischevious smile warped and touched his eyes. Henry's half-hearted attempt at retaliation and that slackjawed pretend-offense was so patently Henry that Gansey was back at his parents' in DC for a moment, behaving somewhat poorly as Helen looked on with pinched disapproval. Henry was as excitable about little silly things as he was about big, important things. Gansey could listen to Henry talk for hours. He had. He was sure he would, again.

"Lesson one will be splashing," Gansey said, all smugness. He slicked his hair out of his face and squatted to submerge himself in the water. There, he half-floated, considering the stark, unpopulated room. Would it have been so soothing during the day? Gansey feared not.

"Are you awake enough to do this?" In case he wasn't, he splashed gently at him again. He was helping.

Henry shot Gansey a look, and it was a look, all mock affront that he might have come all this way in a swimsuit and drunk coffee and gotten in a pool, and be tired about any of it. On the contrary. He was alive. He wasn't sure he'd ever felt so alive.

He splashed Gansey back slightly, and this time it was a little more successful. That made him grin, and also made his ears a little hot.

"Is that a bit more like how you like it, Dick?" Henry asked teasingly. "Is it more of a flick of the wrists?"

With no more splash than the natural displacement of the water, Gansey shielded his face from the oncoming water with a forearm and a hand out by means of lazy offense. He laughed as easily as he floated along. His arms might have stayed up a touch longer than was strictly necessary to cover the quick hotness in his cheeks.

"I expect this kind of behavior from Ronan, Cheng, but you?" He clicked his tongue as if he were more disappointed than amused. He wasn't.

Gansey stood up and pushed Henry off of the bottom step and onto the pool floor. He looked very pleased by this turn of events. The lights in the pool cast backward shadows, familiar and strange. This Henry was the very same Henry from home. Not even time could separate Henry Cheng from his true self. An admirable trait and a remarkable individual.

Gansey submerged himself up to the shoulders and let the water move him. His grin turned down. Thoughtfully, he asked, "what do you think of this place?"

"Maybe you missed that we've been going to an all boy's school for the past few years, Richardman. That joke was in quite good taste, I thought." Henry smiled and let Gansey ease him away from the ladder into the pool, away from the edge. The water encircled him. It was hard to differentiate the sensation of water-warmth and skin-warmth.

Even though the water wasn't all that deep--four or five feet, definitely shallow enough to stand in comfortably--Henry worked his hands just below the surface, mimicking what he knew about the motions of treading water.

He looked up at Gansey's question, curious. "The gym, specifically? Or Darrow, generally?"

Of all of the silly nicknames Gansey had acquired Richardman was the least offensive to him. Gansey Boy had become a title, something Gansey hated as much as he valued it. Usually iterations of his Christian name sat wrong with him. This one was a term of endearment. Gansey allowed it. It was something like coming home. Gansey welcomed it.

"Darrow," Gansey specified, a muted smile floating over his face like he did in the water. Both of them knew Gansey didn't care what Henry thought of the gym. While he did care what Henry thought about Darrow, that also wasn't entire what this was about.

Henry hummed and thought. He watched Gansey drift and float in the water. He felt like the area should be brighter, for an all-hours gym, but he wasn't complaining. It gave a certain atmosphere of closeness that was rather nice. It let him look from time to time.

He splashed water into his face, over his hair, and then huffed a sigh.

"You're here," he said after a moment. That put an awful heavy weight on Gansey thought, and Henry retreated slightly; "The whole cabinet is here. It's good to see. I don't know how I feel about, you know, being trapped in a bubble universe or whatever. But I'm getting to know your child bride better. That reminds me, I have a picture of her and I at prom that I need to show you."

The answer made Gansey watch Henry a bit closer. Though this Henry didn't know all that the one at home did, a lot of things were the same. Henry's cautious observation, his careful backtracking, these were both things that Gansey had seen in the beginning. A lot of comfort was to be gained from that; it meant that there was a chance things would go back to the way they were when Gansey left them.

And then there was Blue. He knew his expression had betrayed him, brows knitting down into a a protective frown that only sheer force of will kept from altering the line of his mouth. For all of the convincing he'd done for himself that this wasn't a thing to be broken about, the late night and the solitary company and the comfort of being swathed in the water had him unprepared for this line of conversation.

"I would like to see it," Gansey assured him. "After some time has passed." Did Henry know? Was it even Gansey's place to tell about it? Their relationship didn't seem to be a secret. Everyone in Hywel knew. Maybe not Ronan. Maybe it was best if Ronan didn't know.

"Do you know Ellie?" He almost asked do you know about Ellie, but that seemed horribly inconsiderate. Like she was a thing. No person was a thing, especially not a person worthy of Blue Sargent's love.

Henry nodded, because here, here was the crux of the question, really. Gansey didn't want to know about Darrow. He just couldn't approach this situation directly. And that was alright. Except that something went tight and uncomfortable in Henry's chest that he didn't really know how to explain. He wasn't sure he could be impartial to any of this.

He sank in the water until it was just over his chin but not quite touching his lips. He watched Gansey carefully.

"Is that her name?" Henry asked carefully. "Blue and I have had a brief talk about things, but--I mean, I gave my congratulations and then politely excused myself from the discourse. I can't have stock in something I haven't been invited into being invested in."

That was, maybe, more honest than he needed to be. He milled his arms under the water uselessly, just to feel the resistance. "Is that why you brought me here, Gansey boy? To talk about Wendybird's new belle?"

Henry's knowing nod stung just behind Gansey's sternum. Gansey had ignorance his all, but he knew why he wasn't sleeping. He knew why he needed the water and this person's company and an empty room. From within the castle walls, Gansey's heart was breaking. Each time he remembered, he built up a new wall with empty words and doubled the guard. Cabeswater made no effort to protect him. She was one of the trees, after all.

"Not to my knowledge," he answered, rubbing a thumb absently against his mouth. In the thick of this stupidity, Gansey remembered why he'd only asked ancient questions with ancient answers: because they had answers. While he was on the subject, how had cyclical time changed its direction?

His contemplation almost caused him to skim over the middle bit, but the words echoed hollowly, finding nothing relateable to stick to. "Wait, what do you mean?"

"You don't know if you brought me here to talk to me about Blue?" Henry asked, and snorted a little, because then, they were going about this all wrong. This was a Gansey domain, and the whole event was more Ganseylike than even climbing into that hole under Borden House had been for Henry. Henry just tried to smile around everything, the thicket of emotion in his chest.

"What? Oh." That made him shrug, when he realized what Gansey was picking out and prying on. After a moment, Henry hummed and then said, "I decided when I came to Aglionby and watched the Vancouver crowd in all their trappings of relationships and what have you that, unless I was involved in something, it was none of my business. I'm there for listening. I'm very good at that. But--well, if I'm not invited, then I don't get to have an opinion, do I?"

That was a lie. Henry had a lot of opinions. He and the Vancouver crowd had had a betting pool on Ronan and Adam getting together. He had watched how Blue and Gansey looked at each other at the toga party. Henry had more opinions than he knew what to do with. And not a single one of them meant anything, when he lived on the outskirts of things.

Gansey raised a brow wryly. "You expect me to believe you don't have an opinion, Cheng?" He smiled quietly to himself; on Ronan, it would have been a smirk, but Gansey's victories weren't so crudely celebrated. Gansey had caught Henry in a lie, and one so thin that any Aglionby student would have barked a laugh. Henry Cheng, who always had a cause, didn't have an opinion? Please. Maybe when Ronan Lynch finally got his Perfect Attendance award, Gansey would believe Henry didn't get to have an opinion.

That wasn't the point. He chose his words carefully, licking his lips in the ensuing silence. "Blue had a life before I got here." After he got here. Between when he was here and he wasn't. Whatever. "I had a whole life she doesn't know about." A life with her, but not with her. And that was an important distinction. Gansey would not hold her to the promises she never had a chance to make. This was also the hardest part: the most Blue Sargent thing she could have done was rebel against destiny. Here she was, doing that, being so purely, truthfully Blue that it made Gansey ache for the Blue that he could pull close and remind how absolutely perfect she was.

If Gansey was going to chose a time to start drinking, this was it.

"Am I supposed to move on?" He was about at the halfway point of the pool now, treading water autonomously, not raising his voice too much because it was quiet and it was just them, and the king needed his adviser.

This time, even though Gansey was drifting away from him--Henry didn't know how to draw him back, he could only go so deep in the water--Henry splashed at him for the assault on his character. He was very selective on his opinions. He could not have an opinion on this. At least not a vocal one. At least not a vitriolic one.

But Gansey was making a point, one that was obvious, but painful too. Painful more for Gansey than for Henry. He, after all, still did not fit in this place, with these people.

"We all have lives before we got here, man," Henry pointed out. Gansey had layers of that shit now, more than Henry knew how to sift through in one pool-bound heart to heart. "And I don't know if a few months is a whole life. Don't get ahead of yourself there. I think you're both out of each other's loops just as much as the other one. Maybe that's the problem here. You're just not in sync. You've gone back to you and me, and not we."

It was universal, in this sense. Not when he'd accidentally flubbed on the beach, talking to Blue, and implicated himself anywhere in this tangled web of romance. He wasn't even sure he belonged anywhere, yet, in this tangled web of friendship. Except when he did.

The question seemed rhetorical for a moment. Henry didn't want to give bad advice, either way. Finally, what he said was, "I do not have a lot of experience in relationships, bro. In fact, none. Zero. I can't tell you how you're supposed to do this. But I can tell you that we are all very young."

Gansey was silent for a few long moments, considering Henry's words carefully. He nodded and waded back toward Henry, just to prove he wasn't being ignored.

You and me, and not we was a good place to start. While Gansey understood that things were different, Blue felt the same in his heart. She looked at him the same. Knowing they were destined to be together and being together were two different things. They had been before so they could be again. That certainly made sense with what Gansey knew: that time was cyclical.

Gansey took Henry's arms and began slowly wading him toward the center, where he'd just been. "Speak for yourself, Cheng," he said with a small smile, more focused on keeping calm so Henry would. "I'm a timeless forest." He grinned and continued his pull back.

Henry let himself be drawn deeper into the water. He was not nervous, not like when they'd been in Borden House. At least, he wasn't nervous for any of the same reasons he'd been in Borden House. Swimming did not make him anxious, because he had no structure to evaluate why it would. Gansey's hands, though.

"You could probably do with being a little less old and wise, bro," Henry said with a smile. But that was a lie, or at least not the truth. Gansey would not be Gansey if he were not a little timeless, a little ageless. A boy with the soul of an old man; or an old man with young eyes; or something in between.

The water enveloped them. Gansey's hands were very warm. Henry thought of the water more than anything else, how it supported him, how it made him feel strangely safe despite that he didn't know what he was doing.

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