For a long moment, Adam says nothing. His eyes stay locked on Henry, unblinking, as if even a single breath might shatter the fragile space between them.
The way he stares makes it feel as though he cannot accept what he has just heard, as though Henry's words are a language he refuses to understand.
Did he love Henry all these years only to lose him like this? The thought burns through him, wild and bitter.
He has loved Henry almost all his life, long before Henry even started to look at him that way.
Long before there were stolen glances or hesitant touches. Back in highschool, Adam had already built a future in his head, a future where Henry's presence was constant, a certainty that never faltered.
He had pictured days wrapped in shared laughter, nights stretched out with nothing but their breathing filling the dark.
And when he feared Henry might never see him, never return even a fraction of what he felt, Adam refused to stand back and hope.
