TWs: blood, mild swearing, a bit of awkwardness/2nd hand embarrassment
*******************
HENRY
He ends up discarded and tossed aside on a damp park bench.
One of his eyes is swollen shut, and through the other, he peers blearily up at the glowing golden lights of a neon McDonald's sign.
Henry lets out a groan that's more like a pained growl, probing around his face until he finds the cuts the men left him with- from knives or nails, he isn't sure- but blood from somewhere trickles along his cheekbones and stains the torn collar of his shirt deep crimson.
The freshly ironed suit jacket has gone, along with all the money he'd stashed in the pocket.
He's barefoot, though yet again, he can't remember how or why, and as he hauls himself upright, his toes dig into the soil, nudge against a pile of stinking dog shit and recoil hastily; jumping up and wobbling precariously on his feet, unsteady as a new-born.
And that's how he feels, too- reborn, brimming with childlike curiosity.
He feels free.
Truly free.
Henry sets off down a paved path at a steady pace, an insane grin plastered on his lips; tipping an imaginary hat to the few passers-by he meets, and almost forgetting why they keep a safe distance away from his manic figure.
Free.
He could get used to this.
***
Morning sees the runaway Prince curled up at the base of a watchful tree; cradled in branches and blinded by sunlight.
A soft voice floats, discombobulated, by his ear.
Drowsily, Henry prises open his eyes, winces, and immediately closes them again.
The light is a hundred times too harsh, too bright. Trying again, he gets one open, and gives up on the second.
All the pain from last night has returned abruptly to him, and he surveys the wreckage of his hair, his clothes, his bare, muddy feet, with a faint trace of amusement.
The drunk smile he'd worn on his way here has yet to fade, and there's a lightness resting among his ribcage that fills him with giddy helium.
High on freedom, he jumps up- and crumples right back down again. Stars flash and implode before his dazed eyes, as he hits the ground once more, and is dragged under.
Split seconds before he blacks out, a face swims across his sight- murky and shadowed, but still beautiful enough to make Henry's stomach twist in a feeling he hasn't succumbed to in years.
The face lulls him into a stupor, and carries him all the way into unconsciousness.
***
"Sorry, who are you again?" There's someone above him- warm hazel eyes peering down through thick lashes, an amused smile curving the boy's lips like a casual afterthought.
Henry's voice emerges choked, half strangled and raw, but whether that's from the sharp clarity of smooth cheekbones, curled hair- ruffled and perfectly untidy- and a tight fitting maroon shirt, or from exhaustion, he'll never know.
"Alex," Alex says warmly, with the hint of a dimple tugging at his cheeks, as he extends a hand down to Henry- who grasps it gratefully.
Hauled to his feet, he sways momentarily, before regaining his dignity, straightening out the remains of shirt and trousers, and shaking Alex's hand firmly.
YOU ARE READING
Runaway||RWRB AU
FanfictionIn which Henry is a runaway royal, Alex is himself, and London is the new City of Love... Instead of putting up with his family's constant torments over his sexuality, Henry runs away from home. By chance, Alex is also in London, on work experience...
