...every time I play a game like this you come in with something that desperately wants to be a gamefail. I see you.
ONE: The breakup isn't anybody's fault, and that makes it so much worse. If Henry could blame Alex—if Alex had cheated, if he'd let fame get to his head, if he'd started holding the money he was earning over Henry—it would be a lot easier to move on. The pressure of trying to maintain privacy just got to be too much.
TWO: They don't text. They don't call. Clean break. Sometimes, when it's late and Henry's drunk, he pulls up their text thread and just reads through it. Once or twice he could swear he sees the typing indicator flash up for a moment, but it's always gone before he can figure out if it's just his imagination.
THREE: The first time Henry hears Can't Seem To Shake You he's on his knees in a club bathroom, Alex's voice barely discernible through the walls and over the throbbing bass. He almost thinks he can tune it out, but the start of the chorus knocks him straight through the solar plexus, and he ends up leaving the stranger unsatisfied and pissed off, walking home to try to sober up and with the lyrics circling around in his head: But you tell me I'm good and you laugh when you come, and you kiss the taste of yourself off my tongue
FOUR: The obsession with the subject of Alex's latest album reaches a frenzy most commonly associated with Taylor Swift's discography. There are thinkpieces and Buzzfeed quizzes and deep-dive Twitter threads analysing Alex's body language with every semi-famous person he's ever been photographed with.
(Henry appears in exactly one, but it's enough for him to see a noticeable bump in book sales.)
FIVE: It's Pez who first messages Henry when Storm Your Castle is released on streaming. Henry listens to it fourteen times, crying on the floor of his bedroom, and then he picks up his phone, scrolls down to Alex's contact, and hits Call.