— trente-sept ; thirty seven —

HENRI DIDN'T WANT to be stuck inside a hotel room anymore

They'd returned from the Foxhole Court to their hotel an hour ago and Henri was exhausted from the day that had dragged on for too long. His headache was back with vengeance and he just felt ill in general, from some stupid bug that refused to leave him alone. He'd crawled under the covers the moment they'd gotten in with the intention of sleeping it all off and waking up tomorrow, but he still hadn't managed to find sleep. He kept thinking about what Soren had, what Jean had said, what Jack had said. Too many voices. Too many thoughts.

Finally, he gave up and got out of bed. Soren looked at him from his side of the room as he grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. Henri wasn't really sure what the deal between them anymore was — the silence had been broken but it didn't feel like everything had gone back to normal. He was still annoyed about what happened on the coach, but more than, couldn't shake everyone's reminders that Soren would end up breaking his heart. It felt more significant that ever with the recent events and Henri didn't know how he could get over that.

"Where are you going?" Soren asked.

"Bar," he replied, without really thinking about it. He had never felt the urge to get drunk before but alcohol suddenly seemed like a very easy escape to forget his problems for a little bit. He left before Soren could comment on that.

First stop, Kit and Lucas' room. "Evening," Kit greeted, swinging the door open with a smile. "And to what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I'm going to get outrageously drunk and I'm here to see if anyone wants to join," Henri said. "Drinking alone feels a little too alcoholic."

Kit's eyebrows shot up but Zena appeared behind him before he could reply, looking interested. "Now this sounds like a fun way to spend a Saturday night," she smirked. "I'll happily join."

"Great. Kit?"

"Sure," Kit said easily. "Why not."

"Lucas?" Henri asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

He was sprawled across his bed on his phone and shook his head. "I'll pass but have fun guys."

They stopped off at Loren's room next on the way down and she was happy enough to join them. The hotel bar wasn't that exciting, wrapping around the room with barstools and a few tables, but it was still nicer than Matt's bar. They'd slipped into seats at the bar when he realised they weren't alone — a few seats down, Alixis, Aria and Jude were sat together with their fair share of drinks. Clearly Henri wasn't the only who wanted to take advantage of the hotel bar. The latter turned away the moment he saw them but the girls looked at Henri for a second longer until he looked away.

Getting drinks would have been a struggle if not for Zena, who had a fake ID. She ordered a round of shots and the bartender didn't seem to care enough to ask for the rest of their IDs. They all picked up a shot to start things off and Henri was surprised when Loren joined them.

"Since when do you drink?" he wondered.

She shrugged. "Thought I'd try it for a change."

Henri knocked back the shot and didn't even wait for the others before grabbing the next one, following it in the same gulp. The burn down the back of his throat was strangely satisfying and he didn't hesitate with the third and fourth shot that followed.

"Jesus," Zena said, staring at him when he finally set the fourth empty glass down. He was already beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol, fuzzy and warm.  "There are easier ways to kill yourself, Henri."

"But this is the most fun one, isn't it?"

This was too easy. He grabbed another shot and barely tasted this one.

"As much as I like seeing this new uninhibited version of yourself, maybe slow down a little," Kit said with a nervous laugh. "Seriously. You'll get alcohol poisoning."

"Good!" Henri laughed at their expressions. "Oh, lighten up. It's just a joke. It's always a joke, okay?"

"Just wait a bit before the next one," Loren suggested, catching his wrist when he went to take another shot. He wanted to protest but he was fine, for now. Already he felt better. "Is everything okay, Henri?"

"Okay? Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be? I'm fine. I'm so fine — "

"I've never seen him drunk before," Zena muttered. "Is this normal?"

Kit whispered back, "No."

"Alright, you losers, I can hear you," Henri said, jabbing an accusatory finger at them. "But you can't hear me when I speak French, huh? You'll never know what me and Soren say to each other. You should have heard what Jean said to me! Actually, no. Maybe not. I didn't even want to see him but here we are. He didn't want to see me either. He hates me."

"He does?" Loren looked puzzled. "Why would he? You're his brother."

"Brother. What does that even mean?" Henri waved a hand and was aware of the upperclassmen watching him from down the bar. He couldn't care less at this point. Let the whole fucking hotel hear. "That we have the same parents? Share some genes? He hates me, okay. I ruined everything for him by turning up. Now Soren doesn't want to talk to me. Or maybe I don't want to talk to him."

"Shit, Henri. I'm sorry for bringing the stalker guy thing up earlier," Zena admitted, tugging on the curly ends of her hair. "I didn't realise it would escalate like that."

"No, no one did! But it's okay," Henri said, patting her on the shoulder. "I forgive you, Zena. How could I not? You're my coworker and we even kissed that one time."

Kit stared. "Wait, what?"

"It's not a big deal," Zena said dismissively. "It happened ages ago, to get my ex to stop bugging me. Before I even knew you."

"Still wish you'd mentioned it before," Kit frowned. "It seems like an important thing to forget."

"I didn't forget, okay? I just didn't see what the point of bringing it up was. Seriously."

Kit didn't look particularly appeased even after Zena threaded her fingers through his and picked up another shot. Henri was happy to comply, and after a moment, Zena and Loren picked their own shots up too. The night started blurring and fragmenting from that moment onwards. Henri remembered random specific details — racing each other in tequila shots, Zena and Kit in their own bubble as they whispered together, Loren nearly falling off her barstool in drunken laughter. They were all drunk and somehow, they ended up sitting with the upperclassmen, who were fairly drunk too.

"Soren ended it," Jude declared, pointing a wobbling finger at Henri. "Didn't he? That's what this is, right? Drinking away your sorrows?"

"Fuck you. It has very much not ended and I'm going to upstairs after this to suck his dick."

Zena and Kit seemed to find that hilarious, giggling as they practically fell over each other on the same barstool, but the upperclassmen looked less than impressed. "Fucking hell," Alixis muttered. "Keep the graphic details to yourself. No one wants to hear that."

Henri looked at Jude. "He was asking for it."

"Like hell I was," Jude scowled, gesturing to the bartender for another drink. "He'll end it soon. Just you wait."

"Why the fuck do you care?" Aria snapped out of nowhere.

"Who said I care?"

"Anyone with eyes can see you fucking care, dickhead! It was months ago, Jude. Just fucking move on already because we all know Soren has. He's having a brilliant time with Moreau Junior over here and you need to accept that."

She abruptly stood up and stormed out of the bar without another. Jude looked torn, his jaw working as he looked between the drink that had just arrived and the door Aria had slammed behind her. He finally cursed under his breath and followed her out of the room. Henri picked up the drink he'd left and drank it way too fast. He couldn't feel his fingers at all and he had to lean against Loren to even stay upright on the stool.

"Dra-ama," Kit said in a sing song voice. "What was all that about, anyway? Didn't realise I was in some kind of soap opera around here."

"Something you're not privy," Alixis said archly. She didn't seem particularly drunk, at least in comparison to the rest. "And I don't like any of you enough to sit with you on your own. So I'm going."

Henri saluted her. "Nice talking to you too. Aria and Jude are fucking," Henri said, when she'd left. The bar was practically empty apart from the four of them at this point. "I mean, probably! Anyone can tell. Shame on Aria that Jude still likes Soren. Unrequited love sucks, huh?"

"Yeah," Loren murmured, so quietly it was almost inaudible.

It wasn't long before Zena and Kit called it quits, drunk and stumbling as they stood up. "Safe sex!" Henri called after them, when Kit paused in the doorway to kiss her. "Exy won't wait for babies!"

Zena flipped him the finger and pulled Kit around the corner. A comfortable silence settled over Henri and Loren, both of them content to sip what was remaining of their last drinks — there would be no more, now that Zena had left with her fake ID — and mull over their own thoughts. Henri was still leaning against Loren. She was warm and smelt really nice, like some kind of fruity shampoo. The soft ends of her hair tickled his face — the strands were finer than Soren's and he felt them brush his face when she turned to look at him.

"Why does Jean hate you?" she asked quietly.

"Because our parents are dead," Henri said, without meaning to. It took his cottony brain too long to realise he shouldn't have said that at Loren's wide eyed look. "Shit. I shouldn't...I shouldn't have said anything. Technically, it's a not a secret but — please forget I said anything."

Loren rested her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Can I ask a question now?"

"Sure."

"Why did you decide to drink tonight?"

There was a pause.

"I can afford to be hungover tomorrow. We don't have practice."

Henri hummed. "Makes sense."

The bartender informed them at that point that the bar was closing and they'd have to leave. They made their way to the lift, drunk and clinging to each other's arms for balance — and Henri realised he'd have to go back to Soren. And when he was drunk, he didn't trust the things he'd say to him. The truth would just be embarrassing considering Soren didn't feel the same way. He wasn't ready to face him yet and needed to drag it out a little longer.

"Wanna hang out in your room for a bit?" Henri asked. "Unless you're gonna sleep."

"Um, yeah. Of course. Come on up."

Loren was technically sharing a room with Zena, seeing as she needed a bed and Loren didn't have usually share, but it was clear they'd gone back to Kit's room together. Henri felt sorry for Lucas stuck alone with them. Loren clambered up onto her bed and Henri kicked his shoes off, joining her next to it. There was just enough space for the two of them to squeeze on but they were sitting closer together than he realised.

"I lied," she said, staring down at her hands. There was a slight blush to her cheeks but Henri figured it was from the alcohol. "Earlier, when you asked why I decided to drink...it wasn't because of the hangover. You were honest about your parents so I'll be honest about this. I want to be brave enough to do the things I usually wouldn't do sober, even though I shouldn't do them."

"What things?" Henri asked curiously.

But she just shook her head.

Henri turned his head to look at her and realised, out if nowhere, how pretty she was. The delicate slope of her nose and the light smattering of freckles across her cheeks you could only see up close and the pink curve of her lips. It wasn't that he'd ever though she was ugly before but he'd never really thought about it either way.

"Why don't you have a boyfriend?" he wondered out loud, again not really meaning to actually voice his thoughts.

Loren looked startled. "W-what?"

"It's a genuine question," he said. "You're pretty, kind, smart and it doesn't make sense that no one would want to...what?"

She was staring at him in a way that made him wonder whether he'd said something wrong. She was blushing now and glanced away at Henri's gaze, tucking blonde hair behind her ear. Loren was as easy to read as Soren wasn't. If Henri didn't know any better, he would have said she liked him. Still liked him, he thought, remembering her confession in the kitchen that felt like years ago. He'd forgotten about it in favour of their friendship but the way she was acting now made him reconsider it.

"I shouldn't have drunk," Loren muttered, still refusing to look at him. "This was a bad idea because now I really want to...I mean, I shouldn't..."

"What?" Henri pressed. "Whatever it is, you can tell me — "

Loren leant forward and kissed him. Henri was surprised only for a moment — he was drunk and still confused about Soren and Loren's lips were soft, warm, against his. He leant into her touch and her lips parted beneath his on a sigh. He found himself leading the kiss rather than fighting for dominance, like he did with Soren — this was calmer, gentle, more controlled than his aggressive make out sessions. He brought his hands up to cup Loren's face and drew her face closer to his, running fingers through her soft gold hair. It was long, tickling his arms, longer than Soren's. That thought snapped him back to reality — this wasn't Soren.

He jerked back and Loren scrambled away from him off the bed, a hand flying up to cover her mouth. They stared at each other for a long second that dragged out and the silence was only filled with their ragged breathing. What was he doing? What had he done? He'd seen Soren's reaction when he'd kissed Zena and that was before they'd agreed to exclusivity. And this was his cousin. He'd fucked it up big time. Henri dragged a hand down his face and tried to think of something, anything, appropriate to say. He wasn't drunk enough to deal with this — the reality of this situation had sobered him the hell up.

"I shouldn't have — "

"I'm sorry," Loren whispered, her words muffled by her fingers. She scrambled off the bed and began pacing, back and forth, down the length of the room. "I'm so sorry, I can't believe...oh my god. Oh my god. I'm awful. An awful cousin, an awful person — "

"Hey, it's fine. Loren. Hey," Henri said sharply, when she didn't seem to hear him. She looked up at him and her eyes were shining with tears. "We both fucked up, okay? Just calm down and we'll sort it out."

"How?" Her voice rose on the word and Henri was unsure how to react because he'd never seen Loren lose her cool or raise her voice. "I just made out with my cousin's boyfriend!"

"He's not my — "

"No," Loren interrupted, shaking her head. "Say all you want but we all know your relationship is more than a casual fling, Henri. Do you really think Soren would be okay with this, just because you don't call it dating?"

Henri stayed silent. He didn't know what there was to say to that.

"This is all my fault," she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. "Why the hell did I do that? I'm so sorry. I've ruined everything. I..."

She sank to the floor and buried her head in her hands. Henri could only stare as she quietly sobbed into her hands and wondered how the night that was supposed to distract him from all his problems had turned into another huge one. Also, he was way out of his comfort zone and still a little drunk — how was he supposed to console a clearly inconsolable girl?

"It's not your fault," he said lamely.

"I kissed you. How could it be anything but my fault?!"

"And I kissed you back," Henri said. "Because I'm drunk and you're drunk and we just made a mistake, okay? It's not like we had sex or anything." Henri pretended he didn't see Loren wince and continued on. "Really, it was just a small kiss. I know Soren's going to be majorly pissed off but — "

Loren's head snapped up. "You're going to tell him?"

"I mean, how can I not?" Henri got the impression he should have been backtracking at the expression on her face but kept talking anyway. "Loren, the only thing worse than...this, would be not telling him. It would be like we'd gone intentionally behind his back and kept something big like this from him."

"No, you don't understand. We can't tell him. We can't," she insisted, and Henri was alarmed to see her eyes were filling up with tears again. "He'll never forgive us. I can't...he's the only real family I have, Henri. I can't lose him."

"You won't — "

"It's not worth the risk. We can just pretend this, tonight, that it never happened. You got drunk and went back to your room and I went back to mine. Please," she whispered, more tears rolling down her already wet cheeks. "Please don't tell him. I'm begging you, Henri."

Henri chewed the inside of his lip and finally sighed at her watery, imploring gaze. "Fine."

"Thank god," she muttered, collapsing to a heap on the floor as she ran fingers through her tangled blonde hair. "Thank you, thank you — "

"But if we're doing this, we have to be in agreement. Neither of us says a word of this to anyone. If Soren finds out from someone else, he'll do more than hate us — he'll kill us."

"Not a word," she agreed. "I...it'll be like nothing ever happened."

Henri left not long after that uneasy agreement, knowing that it would only be uncomfortable between them now that the mood had been ruined. He doubted whether things would ever be normal with Loren again after this. This wasn't her walking in on him and Soren, it was something that came way too close to cheating on someone they both cared about. He made it in the elevator up to his floor but that calm he'd been desperately clinging to keep it together in Loren's room was cracking apart at the seams. Henri sank against the wall of the deserted hallway and pressed a hand against his flushed forehead.

He felt too warm, like there was an oppressive heat filling the hallway and pressing down on him despite it being December. Without the numbing edge of alcohol his head and whole body in general was aching again. It felt too much like another panic attack but he couldn't do that again, not so soon, not alone in a hotel corridor. Henri squeezed his eyes shut and focused on his breathing, making sure it was steady and calm, before trusting himself to enter his own room.

Soren was rifling through his duffel bag but looked up when Henri stepped into the room and his green gaze was searching as Henri slowly allowed the door to close behind him, sinking back against him. Just seeing Soren brought that guilt he'd been forcing down to the forefront and on top of the crushing guilt over his parent's death he already struggled with, he felt like he was choking. Shame, hurt, confusion — he didn't know how to deal with the emotions threatening to overwhelm him and he stop trying to fight it all back. He stopped trying to hold himself in one piece and his legs gave out, his back sliding down against the door until he was on the floor.

"I'm sorry," Henri muttered. He felt ill, too ill to deal with this, but he felt as if he owed Soren an explanation and an apology even if he couldn't say anything. He didn't even care what they'd argued about or what Soren has said because Henri missed him, and he just wanted him back. "I'm sorry, Soren...I'm sorry — "

"What are you apologising for?" Soren asked.

"I don't know...well, I do, but I can't...I can't tell you."

He didn't realise his eyes had drifted shut until he felt cool fingers pushing his hair back and forced them open to see Soren crouching in front of him, palm flat against Henri's forehead. "You're burning up," Soren muttered. "Your fever must have returned. You need to get to bed."

"No. No...I'm okay." Henri let his head drop back against the door because holding it up hurt too much. "I don't want to move. Too tired. Just let me sleep here."

"I'm not leaving you on the floor," Soren said. "Get up, Henri."

Henri just shook his head and Soren made a frustrated sound, picking Henri's arm up to drape it across his shoulder and wrapping his arm around Henri's waist to haul him up to his feet. He was unsteady on his feet, swaying a little as the world swung dizzily, and probably would've crumpled back to the floor in a heap if Soren hadn't supported almost all of his wrath. He hadn't realised how terrible he felt but without the fuzzy edges of alcohol to distract him he knew that whatever had left him bedridden a few days ago, unable to even attend practice, was back with vengeance. It had been creeping up on him all day and he was too exhausted to even change out of his clothes, even with Soren's attempts to help.

"If you wanted to undress me, you could've just said," Henri mumbled, managing a weak chuckle. Soren dropped his sleeve with an exasperated sigh but his green gaze was filled with something Henri couldn't quite recognise. "But not today. I'm too tired."

"Just shut up and get into bed, Henri."

Henri let Soren push him gently down into bed and tug the covers up over him, even as he shivered. It was only as Soren was turning away that Henri struggled into a sitting position, reaching out to catch at his sleeve. "Wait," Henri said, his voice softening to a barely audible whisper. "Stay with me until I fall asleep. Please."

Soren stared at him for a second before wordlessly getting into bed alongside Henri and drawing him closer. Henri was aware that Soren was murmuring something to him, that he was gently pushing his sweat-dampened hair out of his face in a familiar soothing gesture, but it was all felt so far away. He was torn between relief that Soren was holding him as if nothing had happened between them and that endless, painful guilt that he was holding him so close without the knowledge that the last lips Henri had kissed had been the wrong Solberg's. Henri drew in a sharp breath and turned to press his face against Soren's shoulder.

"I hope you forgive me," Henri said quietly.

"For what?"

But Henri was already drifting off into a restless sleep even as he clutched Soren to him as close as he could.