#thread: henry4

[officialdiegorodriguez]

Every day, Diego was forced to remind himself that Henry was his boyfriend, and that Dante was simply helping the two of them out. The Brit was nothing short of committed to his newfound role as Henry’s faux boyfriend, despite the fact that he was gaining nothing from the lie, and the logical side of the musician’s brain told him he should be grateful. In fact, Dante was nothing but charming to Diego too, always offering a warm smile and a friendly clap on the shoulder, going above and beyond to ensure that the media steered their attention well away from his personal life. The truth of the matter was that Dante Lee was a Godsend, giving Diego exactly what he’d asked for and allowing him the privacy to come to terms with his sexuality in his own time and at his own pace. 

And yet, Diego was jealous. 

Despite Henry’s reassurances and his own insistence that he’d play nice and not let it get to him, it had, in fact, gotten to him. Just last night an article had dropped about some bullshit Gala Night that Diego knew next-to-nothing about, something Formula 1 related that Henry insisted he’d told him about, though pretty much anything sports related went straight over Diego’s head. The article waxed lyrical about it being the first big event that Dante and Henry would be attending together as a couple, the two of them having gone public with their relationship solely on social media, not yet having ventured out in Black Tie. 

Diego knew it was all bullshit, a facade to protect his own peace, but he’d stupidly let his attention wander to the comments. He’d spent the better half of his night, and the early hours of the morning, doom-scrolling pretty much every form of social media he could get his hands on, reading comments about just how cute the two of them were together, and even stumbling across countless tweets about himself. People speculating over his sexuality, some even going so far as to say he had homophobic energy and that Henry and Poppy should have him ousted from the band.  

Even with Henry looking cute as a button and sound asleep beside him, Diego couldn’t ignore the anxiety that roiled in his stomach even long after he’d set his phone aside. 

In the end, he’d barely slept and by the time he’d heard Henry stirring beside him, he was exhausted. He’d feigned the act of rousing from his slumber, blinking in succession as he tried to imitate Henry’s own sleepy mannerisms, and had plastered on a smile when his boyfriend asked if they were still on for lunch with Ciara before his night out with Dante. 

While it certainly seemed to suit Henry and Dante that their international tour stops were coinciding perfectly with Dante’s schedule, Diego dreaded the idea of having to keep himself busy around some random Hungarian city that he barely knew while Henry was off playing house with a British guy much hotter than his actual boyfriend, and Poppy was spending the evening hanging out with fucking Noah of all people. 

Lunch had gone reasonably well, with Ciara mostly directing her attention towards Henry, ensuring that the night went off without a hitch and that nobody got wind of their deception. Henry, ever attentive, had checked in multiple times with Diego throughout their meal; A careful squeeze of his hand beneath the table here, a whispered ‘is everything okay, cherie?’ there. His tender nickname, that sweet yet subtle utterance of all that he felt, meant only for Diego's ears. It was usually enough to quiet the noise in Diego's head, to draw him back to Earth and fill him with a calm like nothing he'd ever felt before.  

Today, unfortunately, appeared to be the exception. His head seemed to pound – his lack of sleep no doubt catching up with him – and his chest ached as the two of them finally exited their brunch spot and started making their way back to their hotel. They walked in silence, Diego's head spinning at a rapid rate, his thoughts too loud to justify intermittent small talk. 

He was so caught up in his own head that, at first, he'd hardly registered the stranger that stepped into his path, camera in hand as he appeared to yell directly in both his and Henry's face. Diego blinked stupidly, mind racing, as he tried to clear the fog that was clouding his brain. Demands and obscenities were being thrown his way, the flash of a bulb going off at a rapid rate, causing Diego to startle and stumble sideways into Henry, his hand closing around the other man's wrist in an attempt to steady himself. 

Journalists – if you could even justify referring to them as such – appeared on every side of them, thick Hungarian accents mingled with tell-tale sounds of those from across the pond, no doubt having followed them with each tour stop. 

"Henry, how does it feel to have the eyes of not only the music industry on you, but a sea of Formula One fans too?" 

"Henry, what will you be wearing tonight?" 

"Diego, how does the band feel about Dante Lee?" 

Each cry for their attention, each vapid question seemed to fill the air, Diego's ears ringing as his hand slipped around Henry's waist, dropping to the small of his back as he tried to navigate the two of them through the crowd of vultures. 

That's when it came. 

"Diego, doesn't it bother you to have to share a stage with a f–?" 

White noise. That's all Diego recalled. His head reared back in surprise, that vile word filling the space; Diseased and rotting, crawling along Diego's skin and making his stomach churn with revulsion. 

"Hen, forgive me," was all he said as he momentarily turned to face his boyfriend, his voice soft and low before he pulled away from the other man. 

Then, without so much as a second thought, he twisted his body back to the target of all of his rage. His arm lifted as he swung, his fist colliding heavily with the other man's jaw. Gasps filled the air, cameras flashed, and before anybody could stop him, Diego surged forward yet again, tugging at the lapel of the photographer's jacket as his camera toppled to the ground, shattering at their feet.