She did not care for the company of humans, because they were small and bothersome. She just watched the birds in the trees and picked mushrooms in the forest. Her life with herself was complete and she felt little need to ever change it.
first things first: my boys are so touchy & affectionate with each other & it's the cutest, most adorable thing on planet earth.
i die.
moving on...
sweet alex, heās all heart. prattling along, just as happy as he can be.Ā
itāsĀ integralĀ to watch our sunshine boy in this scene.Ā
the book & film are both from alexās perspective, but thereās one thing that weāre afforded between the pages that doesnāt fully make it on screen ā his emotional & cognitive layers. & thatās not anybodyās fault & it doesnāt make the film any less incredible, thatās just how adaptations occur sometimes. you canāt translate everything on screen & honestly, thatās the way it should be. some things can just stay in the written story.
tzp did a marvelous job of pulling some of those pieces from the story & threading them into alexās movements, expressions, & actions. he gave us everything that he could & he did it phenomenally. i canāt imagine anyone else being our alex. i canāt get over how perfectly he was casted.
all this to reiterate, itāsĀ so keyĀ to watch alex here.
we get to see some of his layers. he goes from playful, to pensive, to deeply sincere ā āiāve never felt this way about anyoneā ā & from there, he shifts into an incredibly exposed emotional space & you see him gather himself, working through his words & trying to share his heart in the most fluent way he can.
āitās like thereās a rope attached to my chest & it keeps pulling me towards you.ā
thereās never been a moment in his life where canāt share exactly how he feels. heās always been free to do so. for alex, there was never a question aboutĀ ifĀ heād tell henry, the question wasĀ whatĀ heād tell henry, & once he solved the what, he could proceed with the when.Ā
his mom asked if he felt āforeverā about henry & he didnāt consciously know at the time. (iām a firm believer in the fact that theyāve been in love all along but thatās not the topic right now.) he watches henry in the bar & thatās where he figures it out. the next step is to tell him. point a to b. no detours.Ā
ā& it feels so rightā
all heart, all the time. our sunshine boy.
i donāt see fear here, i rarely do in alex, but i do see timidity. so with our eyes on him in this scene, we watch him waffle through his words, barreling toward the inevitable.
he stays in physical contact with henry the entire time ā running his hands along his forearm, tangling their fingers together, tracing circles on henryās wrist & back. i think heĀ needsĀ it here just as much as he wants it.
the most that alex has ever discovered & understood about himself has been through touching henry. he knows himself best when heās skin-to-skin with the man he loves.
this momentĀ cannotĀ be any different.
ā- āwhat i mean to say is, henry, iāāĀ
iād give anything to hear it come out of his mouth fully here. i want to know how it sounds under the texas sun ā someplace as bright & warm as he is.
alex has never had to fear his own heart; even in the moments where he wasn't sure where it was going. after the NYE kiss, he went to nora to grapple with his feelings & he tried to talk to henry about it, but he never, ever shied away from how he felt. he wasn't raised to. following that giant, gorgeous heart is in his nature. he's always been encouraged to be exactly who he is.
the same cannot be said for our prince.
our mythic, beautiful boy. he literally looks like he's crumbling here. mournful, finite cracks in his glistening, alabaster stone. an absolute masterpiece withered by expectation, tainted legacies, hopeless hopes, & crippling fears.
he has to shy away. he doesn't believe or even entertain the idea that he might have a choice. to be so in love, but so trapped that your love can tangle its roots into the earth, but never bloom.
distance & longing take up far too much space in those stunning hazel eyes. it's all too much for him here. no fight or fawn, just freeze and flight. he did it all in expression: from pure bliss, to the dawn of fear, to desperate wanting, to heartbreak, to retreat. (nicholas galitzine, you wonderfully gifted creature)
in our princeās head, it doesnāt matter how bad he wants to hear the words. it doesnāt matter if heās loved alex & wanted alex all this time. his heart āĀ their hearts āĀ are of no consequence to the trajectory of their lives. & so, despite all this time; despite everything thatās passed between them in the past year ā the firsts & the tender moments, the texts, calls, & emails, the falling in love ā henry does the one thing heās always had to do, lock himself up & run away. just like he did on new yearās eve.
alex has spent a year working him loose; making him feel as free & loved & authentic as he possibly can. heās kneaded every tight curve, massaged every tensioned inch. & henry has put in the same amount of work learning to allow himself to be cared for. for someone to see his bright places, his passions, his wittiness, tenacity, & sparks.
our boys have grown so much & yet sadly, in a moment, terror bends henry back into an ill -fitting place.
the progress isnāt lost, just tucked away. fear is one hell of a keeper.
& you see him dressed up again in his suit. ramrod straight, prim & proper, the closed-off prince of englandās hearts that climbed out of his car to meet alex at kensington a year ago. a man of few words & little feeling. because thereās too much risk in feeling. feeling leads you to a dock in the middle of the lake in texas, listening to the man you love willing & ready to love you back, but you canāt be overjoyed ā because youāre terrified.
grab your tissues, kids. im sure as hell grabbing mine.
first things first: my boys are so touchy & affectionate with each other & it's the cutest, most adorable thing on planet earth.
i die.
moving on...
sweet alex, heās all heart. prattling along, just as happy as he can be.Ā
itāsĀ integralĀ to watch our sunshine boy in this scene.Ā
the book & film are both from alexās perspective, but thereās one thing that weāre afforded between the pages that doesnāt fully make it on screen ā his emotional & cognitive layers. & thatās not anybodyās fault & it doesnāt make the film any less incredible, thatās just how adaptations occur sometimes. you canāt translate everything on screen & honestly, thatās the way it should be. some things can just stay in the written story.
tzp did a marvelous job of pulling some of those pieces from the story & threading them into alexās movements, expressions, & actions. he gave us everything that he could & he did it phenomenally. i canāt imagine anyone else being our alex. i canāt get over how perfectly he was casted.
all this to reiterate, itāsĀ so keyĀ to watch alex here.
we get to see some of his layers. he goes from playful, to pensive, to deeply sincere ā āiāve never felt this way about anyoneā ā & from there, he shifts into an incredibly exposed emotional space & you see him gather himself, working through his words & trying to share his heart in the most fluent way he can.
āitās like thereās a rope attached to my chest & it keeps pulling me towards you.ā
thereās never been a moment in his life where canāt share exactly how he feels. heās always been free to do so. for alex, there was never a question aboutĀ ifĀ heād tell henry, the question wasĀ whatĀ heād tell henry, & once he solved the what, he could proceed with the when.Ā
his mom asked if he felt āforeverā about henry & he didnāt consciously know at the time. (iām a firm believer in the fact that theyāve been in love all along but thatās not the topic right now.) he watches henry in the bar & thatās where he figures it out. the next step is to tell him. point a to b. no detours.Ā
ā& it feels so rightā
all heart, all the time. our sunshine boy.
i donāt see fear here, i rarely do in alex, but i do see timidity. so with our eyes on him in this scene, we watch him waffle through his words, barreling toward the inevitable.
he stays in physical contact with henry the entire time ā running his hands along his forearm, tangling their fingers together, tracing circles on henryās wrist & back. i think heĀ needsĀ it here just as much as he wants it.
the most that alex has ever discovered & understood about himself has been through touching henry. he knows himself best when heās skin-to-skin with the man he loves.
this momentĀ cannotĀ be any different.
ā- āwhat i mean to say is, henry, iāāĀ
iād give anything to hear it come out of his mouth fully here. i want to know how it sounds under the texas sun ā someplace as bright & warm as he is.
alex has never had to fear his own heart; even in the moments where he wasn't sure where it was going. after the NYE kiss, he went to nora to grapple with his feelings & he tried to talk to henry about it, but he never, ever shied away from how he felt. he wasn't raised to. following that giant, gorgeous heart is in his nature. he's always been encouraged to be exactly who he is.
the same cannot be said for our prince.
our mythic, beautiful boy. he literally looks like he's crumbling here. mournful, finite cracks in his glistening, alabaster stone. an absolute masterpiece withered by expectation, tainted legacies, hopeless hopes, & crippling fears.
he has to shy away. he doesn't believe or even entertain the idea that he might have a choice. to be so in love, but so trapped that your love can tangle its roots into the earth, but never bloom.
distance & longing take up far too much space in those stunning hazel eyes. it's all too much for him here. no fight or fawn, just freeze and flight. he did it all in expression: from pure bliss, to the dawn of fear, to desperate wanting, to heartbreak, to retreat. (nicholas galitzine, you wonderfully gifted creature)
in our princeās head, it doesnāt matter how bad he wants to hear the words. it doesnāt matter if heās loved alex & wanted alex all this time. his heart āĀ their hearts āĀ are of no consequence to the trajectory of their lives. & so, despite all this time; despite everything thatās passed between them in the past year ā the firsts & the tender moments, the texts, calls, & emails, the falling in love ā henry does the one thing heās always had to do, lock himself up & run away. just like he did on new yearās eve.
alex has spent a year working him loose; making him feel as free & loved & authentic as he possibly can. heās kneaded every tight curve, massaged every tensioned inch. & henry has put in the same amount of work learning to allow himself to be cared for. for someone to see his bright places, his passions, his wittiness, tenacity, & sparks.
our boys have grown so much & yet sadly, in a moment, terror bends henry back into an ill -fitting place.
the progress isnāt lost, just tucked away. fear is one hell of a keeper.
& you see him dressed up again in his suit. ramrod straight, prim & proper, the closed-off prince of englandās hearts that climbed out of his car to meet alex at kensington a year ago. a man of few words & little feeling. because thereās too much risk in feeling. feeling leads you to a dock in the middle of the lake in texas, listening to the man you love willing & ready to love you back, but you canāt be overjoyed ā because youāre terrified.
grab your tissues, kids. im sure as hell grabbing mine.
i've turned this scene over in my head so many times. it didn't settle right away. which is fitting because it takes them a moment to settle into each other here. & their moment is why it took me a moment. it wraps around itself like a dance. & the boys are dancing.
itās perfect.
anyway.
before we get into the thick of it, i want to mention henry watching the artwork & alex watching henry because it's everything. he's so in love. he's a goner.
when i first watched this, i was so confused about its initial stiffness. i thought -- why is henry so rigid & apprehensive in the beginning when alex is fulfilling the dream he just described? a dream that he always thought would remain a dream?
shouldn't he be overjoyed? ready & willing to be swooped into a slow dance amongst masterpieces? isn't this what he's always wanted? & if so, why are his arms ramrod straight? why is he suddenly uncomfortable embracing alex?
but, in a rewatch (1 of like 40, i'm not kidding), i started to see the shift of his face & his hands. at first, his fingers are tightly wound, barely grazing the back of alex's neck & shoulders. & on his face, you can see it. that delicate, echoey expression of utter disbelief. & this is where i understood.
our precious boy has never been afforded happiness like this. it's so hard for him to slip into it.
& here comes sweet alex, sure & steady. this man's willingness to become any & everything henry needs is beautiful. -- you dreamt of dancing amidst all these statues with someone you love? here i am. we're in love. dance with me.
alex's sobering gaze, eyes fixed on henry with that truly lethal smile. he's solid as henry relaxes. he always has a different method to working henry loose & on this night, he knows he needs to be still & unshakeable -- to let henry slowly come to terms with the fact that this is real. that somebody loves him back & loves him enough to stay, to wait, to fight. that alex isn't going anywhere. that love -- real, true love, isn't as out of reach as he always believed it'd be.
sweet alex & those gorgeous dark eyes -- catching every detail.
he's so patient with henry. before henry even asks. alex loves him & he knows him well enough to meet that need before it's even presented as a need.
& as they dance; as henry settles & lets alex's gravity hold him to the earth, he rests his head in the crook of alex's neck. he places a hand on his shoulder, slowly slipping it into his hair. they get closer & closer until they're tangled up in each other.
alex & his giddy grins, henry with his soft smiles. alex running his hands along henry's back & arms, covering his hands, tracing the length of him over & over again. solid, assuring, & comforting.
they're so in love & im actually crying while i write this.
it's madness.
"because when they write the history of my life...i want it to include you, & my love for you."
the subtle shift in meaning & cadence here is beautiful. henry goes from a grand declaration to a quiet musing. from shouting his intentions into the centuries before him, to whispering his heart to the boy it belongs to. -- "i want it to include you, & my love for you." -- the slight incline of his chin as he speaks -- his little tell when he's ready to stick up for himself.
i think being around henry is teaching alex how to hold intimacy because he does it so well here. his gaze is fixed & wide, taking in henry's every word.
but he's still our alex, so he has to make a joke.
"history, huh? bet we could make some."
when they go back to dancing, alex twines his fingers with henry's & puts henry's fingers back in his hair. my heart.
them waking up together is my favorite genre. alex's hand wrapped around henry's wrist, his other arm stretched across the space between them. henry, our resident "world-class insomniac," waking up slowly & well-rested in his boyfriend's arms. the faintest smile & shutting his eyes once more.
sleep well, my sweet prince. you're right where you belong.
first things first: my boys are so touchy & affectionate with each other & it's the cutest, most adorable thing on planet earth.
i die.
moving on...
sweet alex, heās all heart. prattling along, just as happy as he can be.Ā
itāsĀ integralĀ to watch our sunshine boy in this scene.Ā
the book & film are both from alexās perspective, but thereās one thing that weāre afforded between the pages that doesnāt fully make it on screen ā his emotional & cognitive layers. & thatās not anybodyās fault & it doesnāt make the film any less incredible, thatās just how adaptations occur sometimes. you canāt translate everything on screen & honestly, thatās the way it should be. some things can just stay in the written story.
tzp did a marvelous job of pulling some of those pieces from the story & threading them into alexās movements, expressions, & actions. he gave us everything that he could & he did it phenomenally. i canāt imagine anyone else being our alex. i canāt get over how perfectly he was casted.
all this to reiterate, itāsĀ so keyĀ to watch alex here.
we get to see some of his layers. he goes from playful, to pensive, to deeply sincere ā āiāve never felt this way about anyoneā ā & from there, he shifts into an incredibly exposed emotional space & you see him gather himself, working through his words & trying to share his heart in the most fluent way he can.
āitās like thereās a rope attached to my chest & it keeps pulling me towards you.ā
thereās never been a moment in his life where canāt share exactly how he feels. heās always been free to do so. for alex, there was never a question aboutĀ ifĀ heād tell henry, the question wasĀ whatĀ heād tell henry, & once he solved the what, he could proceed with the when.Ā
his mom asked if he felt āforeverā about henry & he didnāt consciously know at the time. (iām a firm believer in the fact that theyāve been in love all along but thatās not the topic right now.) he watches henry in the bar & thatās where he figures it out. the next step is to tell him. point a to b. no detours.Ā
ā& it feels so rightā
all heart, all the time. our sunshine boy.
i donāt see fear here, i rarely do in alex, but i do see timidity. so with our eyes on him in this scene, we watch him waffle through his words, barreling toward the inevitable.
he stays in physical contact with henry the entire time ā running his hands along his forearm, tangling their fingers together, tracing circles on henryās wrist & back. i think heĀ needsĀ it here just as much as he wants it.
the most that alex has ever discovered & understood about himself has been through touching henry. he knows himself best when heās skin-to-skin with the man he loves.
this momentĀ cannotĀ be any different.
ā- āwhat i mean to say is, henry, iāāĀ
iād give anything to hear it come out of his mouth fully here. i want to know how it sounds under the texas sun ā someplace as bright & warm as he is.
alex has never had to fear his own heart; even in the moments where he wasn't sure where it was going. after the NYE kiss, he went to nora to grapple with his feelings & he tried to talk to henry about it, but he never, ever shied away from how he felt. he wasn't raised to. following that giant, gorgeous heart is in his nature. he's always been encouraged to be exactly who he is.
the same cannot be said for our prince.
our mythic, beautiful boy. he literally looks like he's crumbling here. mournful, finite cracks in his glistening, alabaster stone. an absolute masterpiece withered by expectation, tainted legacies, hopeless hopes, & crippling fears.
he has to shy away. he doesn't believe or even entertain the idea that he might have a choice. to be so in love, but so trapped that your love can tangle its roots into the earth, but never bloom.
distance & longing take up far too much space in those stunning hazel eyes. it's all too much for him here. no fight or fawn, just freeze and flight. he did it all in expression: from pure bliss, to the dawn of fear, to desperate wanting, to heartbreak, to retreat. (nicholas galitzine, you wonderfully gifted creature)
in our princeās head, it doesnāt matter how bad he wants to hear the words. it doesnāt matter if heās loved alex & wanted alex all this time. his heart āĀ their hearts āĀ are of no consequence to the trajectory of their lives. & so, despite all this time; despite everything thatās passed between them in the past year ā the firsts & the tender moments, the texts, calls, & emails, the falling in love ā henry does the one thing heās always had to do, lock himself up & run away. just like he did on new yearās eve.
alex has spent a year working him loose; making him feel as free & loved & authentic as he possibly can. heās kneaded every tight curve, massaged every tensioned inch. & henry has put in the same amount of work learning to allow himself to be cared for. for someone to see his bright places, his passions, his wittiness, tenacity, & sparks.
our boys have grown so much & yet sadly, in a moment, terror bends henry back into an ill -fitting place.
the progress isnāt lost, just tucked away. fear is one hell of a keeper.
& you see him dressed up again in his suit. ramrod straight, prim & proper, the closed-off prince of englandās hearts that climbed out of his car to meet alex at kensington a year ago. a man of few words & little feeling. because thereās too much risk in feeling. feeling leads you to a dock in the middle of the lake in texas, listening to the man you love willing & ready to love you back, but you canāt be overjoyed ā because youāre terrified.
grab your tissues, kids. im sure as hell grabbing mine.
Just read all of your breakdowns of rwrb scenes and my god they're stunning. Your writing is so beautiful and you capture them so well and help me feel the beauty of those moments even more <33
this is so insanely sweet, THANK YOU! i appreciate you reading my rambling. i love the boys so much & theyāre so layered. as a writer, i cannot help but analyze & share my heart.
i've turned this scene over in my head so many times. it didn't settle right away. which is fitting because it takes them a moment to settle into each other here. & their moment is why it took me a moment. it wraps around itself like a dance. & the boys are dancing.
itās perfect.
anyway.
before we get into the thick of it, i want to mention henry watching the artwork & alex watching henry because it's everything. he's so in love. he's a goner.
when i first watched this, i was so confused about its initial stiffness. i thought -- why is henry so rigid & apprehensive in the beginning when alex is fulfilling the dream he just described? a dream that he always thought would remain a dream?
shouldn't he be overjoyed? ready & willing to be swooped into a slow dance amongst masterpieces? isn't this what he's always wanted? & if so, why are his arms ramrod straight? why is he suddenly uncomfortable embracing alex?
but, in a rewatch (1 of like 40, i'm not kidding), i started to see the shift of his face & his hands. at first, his fingers are tightly wound, barely grazing the back of alex's neck & shoulders. & on his face, you can see it. that delicate, echoey expression of utter disbelief. & this is where i understood.
our precious boy has never been afforded happiness like this. it's so hard for him to slip into it.
& here comes sweet alex, sure & steady. this man's willingness to become any & everything henry needs is beautiful. -- you dreamt of dancing amidst all these statues with someone you love? here i am. we're in love. dance with me.
alex's sobering gaze, eyes fixed on henry with that truly lethal smile. he's solid as henry relaxes. he always has a different method to working henry loose & on this night, he knows he needs to be still & unshakeable -- to let henry slowly come to terms with the fact that this is real. that somebody loves him back & loves him enough to stay, to wait, to fight. that alex isn't going anywhere. that love -- real, true love, isn't as out of reach as he always believed it'd be.
sweet alex & those gorgeous dark eyes -- catching every detail.
he's so patient with henry. before henry even asks. alex loves him & he knows him well enough to meet that need before it's even presented as a need.
& as they dance; as henry settles & lets alex's gravity hold him to the earth, he rests his head in the crook of alex's neck. he places a hand on his shoulder, slowly slipping it into his hair. they get closer & closer until they're tangled up in each other.
alex & his giddy grins, henry with his soft smiles. alex running his hands along henry's back & arms, covering his hands, tracing the length of him over & over again. solid, assuring, & comforting.
they're so in love & im actually crying while i write this.
it's madness.
"because when they write the history of my life...i want it to include you, & my love for you."
the subtle shift in meaning & cadence here is beautiful. henry goes from a grand declaration to a quiet musing. from shouting his intentions into the centuries before him, to whispering his heart to the boy it belongs to. -- "i want it to include you, & my love for you." -- the slight incline of his chin as he speaks -- his little tell when he's ready to stick up for himself.
i think being around henry is teaching alex how to hold intimacy because he does it so well here. his gaze is fixed & wide, taking in henry's every word.
but he's still our alex, so he has to make a joke.
"history, huh? bet we could make some."
when they go back to dancing, alex twines his fingers with henry's & puts henry's fingers back in his hair. my heart.
them waking up together is my favorite genre. alex's hand wrapped around henry's wrist, his other arm stretched across the space between them. henry, our resident "world-class insomniac," waking up slowly & well-rested in his boyfriend's arms. the faintest smile & shutting his eyes once more.
sleep well, my sweet prince. you're right where you belong.
i can barely write about this scene without tears pouring down my face. itās beyond intimacy.
frame by frame. magic.
usually all of their touching and tracing is leading somewhere, but in this singular moment, they're just admiring each other. henry is taking his time and alex is leveling all of the air in the room into the most delicate, pointed gaze. there is so much love in that one look. the way henry looks back is so sweet; the most affectionate smile playing at his lips.
alex's breath hitches a bit when henry's hand reaches his heart; and he bursts into the most gorgeous smile.
alex's affinity for bracing his hands against henry's back and waist is beautiful. the way he molds his fingers to every curve of his body. henry going straight for the hair; bracing his grip to the back of alex's neck.
alex never takes his eyes off of henry. not once. he's doing so much with that one look; asking, testing, falling, following. letting henry take the lead. they're saying everything to one another without uttering a single word. in the book, it talks about the tiniest of nods that henry does when they're together, and how alex is the one that notices them and knows what they mean -- i love seeing it here.
this is new for the both of them in different ways. their very own "first time." and you'd think that something this exposed would come with a sense of fear from either of them, but that's not what you find in their eyes. there's wonder, curiosity, love, and even a bit of timidness and caution, but no fear. they're so open and willing with one another. giving all of themselves without hesitation.
& hesitation is a big thing for henry because that's all he's ever done. but here, with his alex, he doesn't have to hold anything back.
their synced exhale, henry's whisper of a smile, the way his teeth graze his bottom lip, licking his lips. alex in absolute awe of him.
the emotional nakedness here is...more intimate than the sex itself. they're both discovering so much about each other in these lines. alex releasing every inhibition and assumption. his words are breathy and loose, like he found it impossible to hold his tongue. like the look in henry's eyes alone is drawing out the very core of his heart. and in this moment, he's realizing that part of his heart is henry now.
& henry. delicate, precious henry. for a boy so filled with passionate, poetic soliloquies, he stripped himself bare with three words. so much about this masterpiece of a boy has to be kept hidden, and this gives everyone around him the ability to make up their preferred versions. he can barely let anyone in.
but here, where for a moment, it's safe, he's letting alex know in just three, life-altering words that alex has all of him. this is everything that he is. and sweet alex takes on every inch, never looking away.
this kiss is where the tears started coming down hard.
the two of them express a very equal amount of love in two stunningly distinct ways. alex's is very pointed, henry's is incredibly rounded. (ill touch on it in another analysis). alex anchors them, henry surrounds them. they literally created their own yin&yang. they crafted their own harmony. it's madness. beautiful, beautiful madness.
you can see alex's pointed focus here in the way he kisses henry. it's direct & unfettered & insatiable. henry's rounder edges are featherlight. his jaw is relaxed, his lips are soft & loose. his eyes are fluttered closed, like he's sleeping.
he's safe enough here to kiss alex softly.
...& that's why i bawled my eyes out.
this got me too.
they're taking their time to trace eachother; learn each other. there's some subconscious part of henry that doesn't feel as secure as he is in this moment, and you can see that in the clutch of his fist.
alex opens it; and he laces them together. it's so easy to get lost in a moment like this, but alex is so intentional and attentive to detail that he takes the time to loosen and anchor every inch of henry. he doesn't leave a single piece of him apprehensive or locked up.
henryās fingers kneading alexās shoulder. the way alex runs his hand along henryās arm & the bend of his waist. alex's grip covering henry's hand as he threads it into his hair. holding it there, keeping them steady. stay.
their touches donāt beg, they take, & the other gives ā whatever & however much theyāre craving from one another. they want so much of each other. & they have all the time in the world. itās just them.
theyāre both so blissed-out & lost in each other here. thereās nobody else in the world. euphoric in its nature, concrete in its beauty.
the slight tremor in alexās lower lip, the way his lips gently brush henry's brow.Ā henryās mouth falling open, eyes flitted closed. itās all so skin-to-skin. neither of them knows where the other ends and they begin.
the meticulous release in the flex of henryās hand. he can feel alex, & his feelings for alex in every nerve, every bone, down to the arched tips of his fingers.
itās tender & gentle & warm & iām going to bawl my eyes out. help.Ā
this is just me gushing about the beauty of the boys. Ā theyāre heartbreaking & i couldnāt breathe until i wrote this out.
letās just start with this shot of henry sleeping.
i donāt have the words for him here. every cut & curve of him is absolute perfection & it drives me insane. i always think people are pushing it when they compare certain men to greek gods, but when i tell you that this prince is every myth & every fable. birth, life, and death. he is apollo, achilles, & hercules. he sits in grecian temples. heās hand-carved in ivory, marble, & gold. he's the pantheon. unspeakable in his ancient pillars, hallowed in his ruins. & heās just ā¦ sleeping. heās justĀ sleeping.Ā
but his arms are framing the pillows & the pillows are taking such delicate care of his face. his lips are parted & full & red against a whispering white frame. artisans etched him from an alabaster stone, i swear to god. he is artwork, music. an aria unmatched in its melody.
the back, the shoulders, theĀ dimple in the shoulders. the sharp ridge of his jaw, the even-keeled slope of his nose. the eyes. the brows. he looksĀ completelyĀ relaxed & itās just soĀ painfully gorgeous. he belongs in the museums he loves so deeply. itās too much. itās too perfect.Ā
alex is just as devastating. heās what happens when the fates want to give ātall, dark, & handsomeā a reference photo.Ā
heās a roman cathedral, dripping in glittery coppers, deep reds & thick obsidians. if henry is carved, alex is painted. michelangeloās final evolution. the sistine chapel consecrated by the saints. the renaissance, an archangel āĀ gabriel. (oh sweet, blissful irony)
heās breathtaking in a way that eases into the heavens.Ā a centuries-old gust of wind crying āgloryā from the clouds. a warmth written into the bones of history.
those big, wide brown eyes -- curving like the sun over the horizon line, thinning into creased lids at the center & side of his face. those lashes are a crime against sanity, full & fluttering ā i die.
the cappella magna in broad morning daylight. the colosseum. an eighth wonder of the world; six feet of lithe & dancing limbs. a basilica of a boy; brought to life by an artistās prayer --
the beautiful clarity in henryās intentions & the way he doesnāt waver in them. i love the solid ground he builds for the two of them. that eye contact is lethal. studying, admiring, testing, teasing, waiting. itās a wide berth, but a pointed one. building a vulnerable space as vast as an island, but never letting the tenderness of the moment drift out to sea.
henry holds intimacy so well. it suits all of those proper, royal lines and rounded vowels. in the book, it talks about his occasional need for permission, how his desires need to be coaxed out in a way ā welcomed, requested, secure. & once he knows itās safe, he ventures out into any & every fantasy available to him. taking every inch of what heās given.
the leveled gaze (if somebody looked at me that intensely, i think iād melt) , the gentle, inquisitive smile tugging at his lips. the way his hands massage the tension out of alexās back & shoulders.
their kisses in this scene are so boyfriend. theyāre not hot&heavy trying to touch each other in every way possible before somebody catches them, or aching & eager to be together after pent-up frustration or painful distance. itās so slow & sure & sweet & easy ā & i might die.
sweet, loving, passionate alex. the one in the relationship thatās been full speed ahead this entire time. yet again, henry renders him nearly speechless. this particular declaration loud & clear instead of hidden in a new yearās kiss.
itās endearing, the way he stutters through his words. unfamiliarity tightening the flex of his fingers and apprehension lifting his shoulders. to want something & yet grappling at the useless air around him to find the words.
& in this, he finds henry. where lightning hits the ground. (so book coded, iām gonna scream)
alexās hands ghosting over henryās waist, the way they breathe each other in. henryās round & boyish grin, just as happy as he can be. every bit of love etching electricity into the set of alexās jawline. the way alex leans into henry. itās all so perfectly infinite. unmatched in its waves.
the way henry shrinks into himself breaks me. that precious boy, always taught to be ashamed of expressing who he is. the frozen stance & the curled hands. the way that sweet face is absolutely shattered. in his mind, heās already reached the seemingly inevitable end of him & alex. the crushing feeling of believing that even trying is pointless. giving in for just a moment, & shrinking back in defeat. sheepish, terrified. he breaks my heart.
the curled fist makes an appearance like 14 times throughout the movie. that same stance : hands raised in alarm, fingers bent, mouth agape, jaw fixed, but open. subtle disbelief & utter shock.
alex kissing him back mustāve sent the most tangled set of waves through him ā all pushing into his eventual withdrawal. fear, desire, surprise, confusion.
the kiss itself was out of impulse & recklessness; this messy, uncontrollable, stomach-churning desire.
but when alex kisses him back, recklessness and impulsivity suddenly becomes intention. & intention has meaning. & thatās more terrifying & slippery than impulse could ever be.
impulse gives you a perfect out. a glorious, speedy getaway car. you can shrug even the most pivotal of moments off your shoulders. henry had an escape plan until alex kissed him back.
& he may have felt something closing in, mistaking a beautiful beginning for a cage. no turning back now. with reciprocation, thereās so much to talk about, so much that henry isnāt ready to admit, understandably so. which explains him ignoring alex for the next few weeks.
& then we have the ever-confident alex. the boy that sees & studies & notices everything ā blind-sighted by this kiss. a deep, subconscious knowing & longing tugging at the coattails of uncertainty & plausible deniability. something in him sensed it, but nothing brave enough to tease the idea.
a culmination of texts & phone calls & pushing everyone & everything aside to laugh at the sharp wit & literary passions of a young prince thousands of miles away.
i like that all of alexās rambling couldāve actually been useful here, a vehicle of understanding for the two of them, but he canāt think. the kiss actually renders him speechless & thoughtless, which is hilarious & adorable & everything it should be. & all he can manage to do is lean in, believe for a split second, in the dark & freezing cold, that all of their bantering actually means something. giving in on instinct. surprisingly comfortable & unafraid.
i love the way his shoulders slowly relax; his arms fall, hands & fingers slowly coming undone. ACD is all heart & soul & heās following it here, bending into that rope he talks about on the dock in texas. pulling & drawing, leading & calling ā right to henry.