Three weeks before Henry Fox's tour for his fourth, highly anticipated, awards-bait novel A Brief War in December begins, his publicist Janella breaks her foot on a bunny slope at Windham. Alex can't be mad at her, even though he kind of is. Saying it out loud would be like kicking her when she was down, and she already went down a literal mountain in the worst way possible. Now crammed in Rafael Luna's corner office, Janella is shooting Alex extremely apologetic looks while slumped on her crutches, wearing a bright orange cast. The conversation about who is going to be joining Henry Fox on his multi-city trek across the U.S. is also going downhill. Alex is feeling the same sort of free fall while standing still. Because out of all the publicists available in their tiny underfunded department, the only one left to escort their company's best-selling author is regrettably him. The problem is, well, Alex absolutely hates Henry Fox.

1. A song you liked as a child
2. A song that features an element (earth/fire/water/air)
3. A song you’d choose to introduce someone to your favorite genre
4. A song you’d put on a playlist for a character you love
5. A song you think most of your followers won’t have heard before
6. A song that makes you think of a family member
7. A song you know every word to
8. A song from a soundtrack
9. A song in a language you don’t speak
10. A song that makes you feel relaxed
11. A song that makes you dance
12. A song from the 90s
13. A song by a performer you’ve seen live
14. A song you love to sing along to
15. A song you’d play for a toddler
16. A song that makes you think of an old (or current) crush
17. A cover song
18. A song you’d play to set the mood on a date
19. A song that makes you emotional
20. A song you’d put on a playlist for the person who sent you this ask

Alex wakes the next morning to a harmony of birds chirping and Henry’s soft snores. There’s a crick in his neck and a tweaked muscle in his back from the hardwood floors, barely softened by the comforter he had folded up as the world’s shittiest makeshift mattress. He couldn’t even use the spare air mattress in a pinch, because how the fuck was he supposed to explain to his family that he and his betrothed sleep in different beds? He glares up in fresh irritation at Henry’s sleeping form, curled into himself, facing away from Alex. The irritation quickly fades, however, making space for grudging fondness—and a little bit of something else—at the sliver of skin showing at the base of Henry’s back from where his too-flimsy sleep shirt has ridden up. Alex can see each point of Henry’s spine poking out through the shirt, and he gets a little lost counting the ridges and imagining how they’d feel under his fingers, until noises outside their door break his tunnel vision.

“I did not know you played the pianoforte.” Henry ducks his head, something almost abashed in it. “Bea was made to learn when she was a child, and I insisted on being taught as well. Of course my parents were only happy to indulge.” “Well, you are both very good. Clearly worth the tuition money.” Henry grins. “I’m not sure the dance tutors were quite as successful, but they tried their best.” The words fly out of Alex’s mouth before he can stop them. “No, you looked good out there.” 

Three weeks before Henry Fox's tour for his fourth, highly anticipated, awards-bait novel A Brief War in December begins, his publicist Janella breaks her foot on a bunny slope at Windham. Alex can't be mad at her, even though he kind of is. Saying it out loud would be like kicking her when she was down, and she already went down a literal mountain in the worst way possible. Now crammed in Rafael Luna's corner office, Janella is shooting Alex extremely apologetic looks while slumped on her crutches, wearing a bright orange cast. The conversation about who is going to be joining Henry Fox on his multi-city trek across the U.S. is also going downhill. Alex is feeling the same sort of free fall while standing still. Because out of all the publicists available in their tiny underfunded department, the only one left to escort their company's best-selling author is regrettably him. The problem is, well, Alex absolutely hates Henry Fox.

1. i’m ending a program that i likely will not pursue a career in
2. the general state of the economy and job market
3. *gestures at the geopolitics of the world*
4. i don’t believe in or value corporate culture/inane capitalist jobs

“Are you actually writing that in a spreadsheet?” he asks, looking absolutely delighted.

“Well yeah, cause you can password protect a spreadsheet. This is serious business!”

“Wouldn’t this be easier to just put in a Word doc? Like why does it need to be a spreadsheet?”

Alex groans. “Do you not get the joy that a spreadsheet gives me, Henry? It waters my crops and heals my childhood trauma.”