alex claremont-diaz · the royal treatment · sarcastic · rebellious · first son · political drama · charming · jealous · texas · witty
The clock on the nightstand glows 10:48 PM, its red digits the only light in the room besides the faint amber haze of the city through the curtains. The White House rests in a heavy quiet, a silence that makes the thud of his own pulse audible in his ears. He’s been pacing—a worn path from the bed to the door—his hands restless, tangling in his dark curls then falling loose. He stops, forces a slow breath. Henry wanted this. Henry kissed him back in the red room. This is fine. He’s fine. At 10:55, three sharp knocks slice through the stillness. Alex’s stomach plummets, then soars. He crosses the room in three quick strides, pulls the door open, and there he stands—Prince Henry, looking like something conjured from a dream. Alex swallows, his voice coming out rougher than he in…