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(From Henry's email to Alex)

Henry (to Alex): Perhaps I could live in your room like a recluse. You could have food sent up for me, and I'll be lurking in disguise in a shadowy corner when you answer the door. It'll all be very dreadfully Jane Eyre. The Mail will write mad speculations about where I've gone, if I've offed myself or vanished to St. Kilda, but only you and I will know that I'm just sprawled in your bed, reading books and feeding myself profiteroles and making love to you endlessly until we both expire in a haze of chocolate sauce. It's how I'd want to go.

(From Alex's & Henry's emails)

Alex (to Henry): Hey, have I told you lately that you're brave? I still remember what you said to that little girl in the hospital about Luke Skywalker: "He's proof that it doesn't matter where you come from or who your family is." Sweetheart, you're proof too. (By the way, in this relationship, I am absolutely the Han and you are absolutely the Leia. Don't try to argue because you'll be wrong.)

Henry's response: I'll agree with your assessment that you're the Han to my Leia in that you are, without doubt, a scruffy-looking nerf herder who would pilot us into an asteroid field. I happen to like nice men.

Henry: When I was younger, I had this very elaborate idea of taking somebody I loved here and standing inside the chapel, that he'd love it as much as I did, and we'd slow dance right in front of the Blessed Mother. Just a... daft pubescent fantasy.

(Henry takes out his phone and turns on music)

Alex: Aren't you gonna ask if I know how to waltz?

Henry: No waltzing. Never cared for it.

(In a museum...)

Henry: I always thought of the whole thing as the most unforgivable thing about me, but you act like it's one of the best.

Alex: Oh, yeah. The top list of reasons to love you goes brain, then dick, then imminent status as a revolutionary gay icon.

Henry: You are quite literally Queen Victoria's worst nightmare.

Alex: And that's why you love me.

Henry: My God, you're right. All this time, I was just after the bloke who'd most infuriate my homophobic forebears.

Alex: Ah, and we can't forget they were also racist.

Henry: Certainly not. Next time we shall visit some of the George III pieces and see if they burst into flame.

(In a museum...)

Henry: One of the most beautiful pieces we own, and we didn't even steal it. We only needed Villiers and his trolloping ways with the queer monarchs. To me, if there were a registry of national gay landmarks in Britain, Samson would be on it. (Alex takes out a phone and is about to take a photo) What are you doing?

Alex: I'm taking a picture of a national gay landmark. And also a statue.

(Alex suddenly kisses Henry)

Henry: Hello. What was that for?

Alex: I just, like. Really love you.

Alex: Stop, are you kidding me? Prince Consort Road? Oh my God, take a picture of me with the sign.

Henry: Not there yet! Keep moving, you wastrel.

Henry: I'm terrified, and my whole life is completely mad, but trying to give you up this week nearly killed me. And when I woke up this morning and looked at you... there's no trying to get by for me anymore. I don't know if I'll ever be allowed to tell the world, but I... I want to. One day. If there's any legacy for me on this bloody earth, I want it to be true. So I can offer you all of me, in whatever way you'll have me, and I can offer you the chance of a life. If you can wait, I want you to help me try.

Alex: Okay, I'm into making history.

Henry: I've always thought of myself as a problem that deserved to stay hidden. Never quite trusted myself, or what I wanted. Before you, I was all right letting everything happen to me. I honestly have never thought I deserved to choose. But you treat me like I do.

Alex: You do.

Henry: I think I'm actually beginning to believe that. And I don't know how long it would have taken if I didn't have you to believe for me.

Alex: Hi. You seem... less pissy.

Henry: You're one to talk. I wasn't the one who stormed the palace in a fit of pique to call me an "obtuse f**king a$$hole."

Alex: In my defense, you were an obtuse f**king a$$hole.

Henry: I'm not like you. I can't afford to be reckless. I don't have a family who will support me. I don't go about shoving who I am in everyone's faces and dreaming about a career in f**king politics, so I can be more scrutinized and picked apart by the entire godforsaken world. I can love you and want you and still not want that life. I'm allowed, all right, and it doesn't make me a liar; it makes me a man with some infinitesimal shred of self-preservation, unlike you, and you don't get to come here and call me a coward for it.

Alex: I never said you were a coward.

Henry: I thought I could have some part of you, and just never say it, and you'd never have to know, and one day you'd get tired of me and leave, because I'm— I never thought I'd be stood here faced with a choice I can't make, because I never... I never imagined you would love me back.

Alex: Well, I do. And you can choose.

Henry: You know bloody well I can't.

Alex: You can try. What do you want?

Henry: I want you—

Alex: Then f**king have me.

Henry: You think I don't care as much as you?

Alex: You're sure as hell acting like it.

Henry: I honestly haven't got the time to explain to you all the ways you're wrong—

Alex: Jesus, could you stop being an obtuse f**king a$$hole for, like, twenty seconds?

Henry: So glad you flew here to insult me—

Alex: I f**king love you, okay? F**k, I swear. You don't make it f**king easy. But I'm in love with you.

Alex (to Henry): I used to think, if I pictured the person I wanted to be and took all the crazy anxiety in my brain and narrowed it down to that point, I could rewire it. Use it to power something else. It's like I never learned how to just be where I am. And where I am is here. With you. And I'm thinking maybe I should start trying to take it day by day. And just... feel what I feel. Sweetheart. Henry, I—

(Henry swims away, pretending to be bitten by mosquitos, he gets away from the conversation)

Henry: Is that an apron?

Alex: Morning, sweetheart.

Henry: Sorry, I was looking for someone else. Handsome, petulant, short, not pleasant until after ten a.m.? Have you seen him?

Alex: F**k off, five-nine is average.

Henry: Love, you and I both know you're rounding up.

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