Henry sat back down and stared into his tea cup. He never finished the drink and spent a while sitting at the cafe, wondering just what he got himself into. When he gave up on that, he walked back to the little apartment he called home.

By the next morning, he'd managed to completely psych himself out to the point that he almost called Kenneth to tell him they couldn't meet after all. He paced in the tiny space between hand-me-down furniture and his bookshelf for a good ten minutes before he gave in and texted Kenneth the address and told him to be there in an hour. Because really, it was too late to go back now. Not when he got this close.

Throwing on a simple tanktop, shorts, and his pink hoodie again, Henry stuffed what he needed in a backpack. His bike sat out front and he spun through the streets and reached the studio with thirty minutes to spare. Good, he had plenty of time to hide in a corner still.