Archie arrived at the hotel just a few minutes after Graham did. Graham let him in through a back door at the end of a hallway, letting Archie avoid the lobby after he’d called out sick from work. They hurried down the hallway, ducking around corners, sneaking into the elevator door as soon as it opened, all the while giggling like school kids.
“Thanks,” Archie smiled as they finally reached the safety of Graham’s room. “I did not want to have that conversation if I’d gotten caught.”
“Think they would’ve been mad?” Graham asked, tossing his wallet and room key on the counter.
“Maybe,” Archie shrugged. “I mean, they need me, so what’s the worst that could happen? They wouldn’t fire me. I just hate confrontation. Like, it’s the worst. So I’d just rather not.”
“You fearless little devil,” Graham teased.
Graham freshened up for dinner while Archie rested on the chaise-couch. Reclining there, he reminded Graham of a cat sunning itself in the windowsill, lazy and content. He smiled. (This picture also reminded him of other, far less wholesome images of the things they’d done together on that chaise-couch, which brought a different kind of smile to his face.) They had a six-thirty reservation for dinner at a spot Archie recommended, leaving Graham just enough time to catch his breath after returning from work.
It had been a wonderful last day. They had bought him a cake and surprised him just as the clock hit four and he was about to wrap up his final training session. A few folks from the various trade groups stopped by to give their thanks – and to get a slice – and they stood in the conference room, snacking and chatting and running out the clock. It felt like the last day of school, exciting, sentimental, and bittersweet.
Charlie hadn’t said much about the system admin proposal, only that they were still drafting a request for their sales rep, but in the days since Charlie first pitched the idea, the job had burrowed itself into Graham’s mind. It could be nice, he thought, to stick with one client, to get to know these same people instead of floating from place to place. Even if he’d still be stuck in the office back home, at least he’d have some consistency. And hey, maybe he’d have an excuse to come back to Des Moines.
He thought about this now as he washed his face, fixed his hair, and applied a few sprays of his favorite cologne. He listened to the sound of the tv playing from his room, echoing off the smooth tile of the empty bathroom.
It felt surreal, this being the end. He didn’t know what to do about it.
Their dinner spot was a quaint Italian restaurant in an older part of town. It had all the necessary fixtures of a romantic evening – a restored building with exposed brick interior, dark wood, red accents, black-and-white photographs, and tea candles burning on every table. The menu was simple but refined, quality over quantity.
Graham ordered a bottle of chianti and their server brought a basket of bread and their conversation ebbed and flowed easily, never drifting into sentimentality, but also avoiding the elephant in the room. Graham’s melancholy hung over him like a low cloud, not heavy enough to rain, but nonetheless dulling the light of this otherwise sparkling evening.
Don’t think about it, he scolded himself. Just try to enjoy your evening.
After they ordered their entrees, Archie cleared his throat, catching Graham’s attention.
“So,” he said, his voice buzzing with repressed anticipation. “I have some news I wanted to share with you. I found out a couple days ago but, after we planned dinner, I thought it would be the perfect time.”
Graham raised an eyebrow. For some reason, his pulse began to race. He could feel it in his ears.
“I’m officially going back to school!” Archie’s smile lit up the small, dim dining room.
“What?” Graham exclaimed, probably a little too loudly. “Archie, that’s incredible!”
“I know! It’s still sinking in, I think.”
“That’s so exciting! Which path are you going to pursue?”
“I’m going to take the pre-med courses. I spoke to an admissions counselor and she helped walk me through what would set me up to go to PT school. SInce I got a lot of my basics covered, we were able to focus on just the requirements I’d need going forward. And it seems…doable.”
“Archie, that’s –” Graham stopped, emotion catching in his throat. “That’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.”
Archie’s eyes shimmered.
“Thank you. Seriously, thanks. I don’t think I would’ve done this yet if you hadn’t believed in me so…it just really means a lot.”
Graham blushed but blamed it on the wine.
“I didn’t do anything,” he deflected. “I was just here. You’re the one making it happen. You’re the one taking those first steps. It’s all you.”
“Still,” Archie smiled, the hint of pink in his cheeks matching Graham’s. “You played a part. And that’s not nothing.”
“Well, I’m happy I was able to.”
The finality of Graham’s words hung between them heavily, sounding far too like a farewell for Graham’s tastes. He cleared his throat, took another sip of wine, and tried to right the ship.
“So have you talked about enrollment yet? Do you know what your schedule will look like? Are you going to try to keep both jobs?”
Archie chuckled.
“I honestly have no idea yet. Haven’t got that far. But we did start to talk about enrollment. She sent me some course guides and we’ve got another meeting next week to draft my schedule. As far as work goes…” Archie took a drink. “I don’t know. I might try to keep the hotel job, just because it’s consistent. Might give me the weekends off to recover. But that would make for some really long days. So maybe I'd just keep my shifts at Harry’s?”
“Hmm,” Graham pondered. “Do you think that would…I mean, would your shifts at Harry’s be enough to, you know, support you?”
“I think so,” Archie answered, fidgeting with the stem of his wine glass. “At least through a semester. I’ve got a little money saved. Then I could see if the hotel would take me back over breaks and whatnot. I still need to figure all that out.”
“You’re right,” Graham nodded. “Sorry, you’ve got plenty of time to figure that out. You don’t need me hounding you with questions.”
“No, I’m glad you asked. It’s nice having someone to talk to about it rather than trying to figure it all out in my head.”
“Fair,” Graham smiled. “Is there one you’d rather keep over the other?”
Archie’s brow furrowed for a moment as he thought.
“Maybe Harry’s.” He looked up as he answered. “It’s certainly more fun. And I’d get my weeknights for homework and everything.”
“That makes sense,” Graham agreed. “Man, it’s hard to imagine you not at the hotel anymore.”
“Yeah.” Archie met his eyes and held them, Graham’s meaning passing easily across the table. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it? But…I guess this was always supposed to be temporary.”
Graham’s stomach lurched at the word, and for a second he wondered whether they were still talking about bartending. All week, he’d been toying with the idea of staying – extending his hotel room or finding an Airbnb, hanging onto his rental car and staying through the weekend, giving them a few more days before goodbye. But Archie was right, this was always supposed to be temporary. Archie had a life to get back to. Or better, Archie had a new life to go make. And Graham did, too, although he hadn’t the slightest idea what that life might look like. Not anymore.
“Well then,” Graham grabbed his wine glass, raising it across the table like he had done so many times on their early outings together. “To new chapters.”
Archie smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Here, here.”
He raised his glass.
They returned to Graham’s room full and happy and still glowing slightly from the wine. They entered again through a side door for Archie’s sake but drifted easily down the hall and into the elevator. They held hands the whole time, as if daring anyone who might see them to notice, to know.
Graham, usually so cautious and discreet, found his chest swelling at this public gesture. Strolling down the hallway, Archie’s fingers laced between his own, he felt proud and comfortable, like wearing an outfit he knew showed off all the best parts of his physique. He didn’t even consider this a public display of affection, although it surely was, but rather something deeper and more meaningful – a public display of association, of ownership, of belonging. He held Archie’s hand because, here, in this hallway, in this hotel that for the past six weeks had been his home, Archie was his.
And he wanted to make that known.
They entered the room quietly, the energy between them calm and attentive. Archie crossed to the center of the room and stood there, quietly, surveying his surroundings. Graham watched him for a minute, shocked at how young and delicate he looked in these moments by himself. He crossed the room and stood behind him. His arms wrapped around Archie’s torso, his chin rested on Archie’s shoulder, his chest pressed against Archie’s back. Archie’s hands found his, and he leaned back into Graham, exhaling.
“What are you thinking?” Graham asked quietly.
Archie was quiet for a moment, then spoke.
“For the longest time I had no idea what these rooms looked like,” his voice was hush, like they were discussing a painting in a quiet museum. “But now…this place just feels so familiar.”
Graham smiled. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“What about you?” Archie asked. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that I’m just really grateful for you.” Graham spoke before he’d had a chance to formulate the words, like that truth had been building in his body and now, at the first glimpse of opportunity, it leapt free. “You know, I took this project to run away. To punish myself. To ignore all my problems and numb my pain at a cheap hotel bar. I just…I never could have imagined these past couple weeks. I’m slightly in awe that they happened to a guy like me.”
“Graham,” Archie said softly. He turned around, squaring his shoulders, meeting Graham’s eyes, holding his ground. “These past couple weeks are exactly what a guy like you deserves. If you take nothing else away from this trip, I hope you at least take that.”
Graham’s chest tightened as these words settled in, and he felt a sting in the corners of his eyes. He swallowed hard, steadied his breath, and continued.
“I was dreading this stupid project,” he chuckled. “But this has been maybe the best six weeks of my entire life. So thank you. For making this whole experience not suck.”
They both laughed, that deep, heavy laughter that keeps the stronger emotions at bay.
“You’re welcome,” Archie said, his gaze steady, his voice sincere. “You know what they say – the only thing worse than being stuck in Iowa is being stuck in Iowa alone.”
“Yeah,” Graham laughed and felt a tear slip down his cheek. “Yeah, and this is the first time in quite a while I haven’t felt so alone.”
Archie lifted a hand and brushed Graham’s tear away with his thumb. His own eyes looked wet, and Graham could see the muscles twitching as he struggled to keep his expression neutral. When he spoke, his voice was cloudy.
“Trust me,” he said, stopping to clear his throat. “I understand.”
These words met Graham like a salve, drawing out the pain, the struggle, the confusion, and leaving only a warm sense of certainty in its place. And so, he took a breath, looked Archie in the eyes, and spoke.
“I wish…” Graham began, his throat tight. “I could take you with me.”
Archie studied his face, searching for meaning, searching for a solution that would make all their problems go away. He smiled, a sad, mournful smile.
“I wish I could go.”
Graham searched for words but found none.
Instead, he leaned forward, his hands finding Archie’s shoulders, and kissed him softly. Archie received the kiss, returned it. His hands found Graham’s hips, resting there gently. Their mouths communicated everything their words failed to capture – their sorrow, their gratitude, their longing, their love – moving together in that pure, sacred synchronicity most people spend a lifetime searching for.
They undressed each other slowly, studying and savoring each new inch of skin revealed beneath, all the wide-eyed wonder of their first time, all the quiet reverence of their last.
As Archie's shirt hit the floor, Graham's hand traced the line of his collar bone, the curve of his shoulder, the firm muscle of his biceps. Archie lifted Graham’s polo, tossing it aside, running a finger through the hair on his sternum, feeling the strength of Graham's chest. Graham's fingers glided down Archie's side, feeling the ripple of his ribcage, tracing his tattoo, finding the indentation that began at his side and disappeared beneath his waistband. His hand paused there, noticing the softness of his skin, remembering when his map of Archie once ended at this boundary, when what lay beneath his clothing was still a burning mystery. He studied this line, still thrilling, still beautiful.
They undid each other's belts in tandem, moving quickly to their buttons and zippers. Graham felt the swell of his arousal, flutter of his heartbeat as they proceeded. Archie stepped back and slowly slid his pants down his legs. They fell, happy to succumb to the pull of gravity, and Archie kicked them aside. Graham looked at him, his eyes, his body, his cock, still resting peacefully between his legs.
“My God, you're beautiful,” he marveled.
Archie didn't say anything. He just smiled and flushed slightly at the compliment.
Graham followed suit, pulling off his pants and briefs and stepping out of them. He could feel Archie’s eyes surveying him. They were kind eyes. They didn't criticize; they didn't consume. They just saw him, exactly as he was. And they accepted him. Adored him, even.
“Who's beautiful now?” Archie asked back, breathless.
Graham stepped forward and cupped Archie's face in one hand, his thumb tracing along his jaw. With his other hand, he drew a line from Archie's belly button, down into his pubic hair, and finally to his cock. He took it on his grip and held it. At first he didn't move, didn't squeeze, didn't do anything. He just held it. He felt its warmth, its smoothness, its weight. He kissed Archie, slow at first, slipping his tongue between his lips. Archie met him, their tongues circling like coy in a pond. He began to swell in Graham’s hand as Graham began to stroke.
They stayed there for a minute, tongues dancing, Graham's hand moving steadily back and forth. He had also grown hard by now, and soon he felt Archie’s hand reach out to find him. He gasped at the contact, as if feeling it again for the first time. Archie’s fingers closed around him, teasing him, grazing his shaft instead of gripping it. And then, he guided Graham backwards towards the bed.
Graham sat on the mattress, legs falling wide, and Archie knelt between them. His hands found Graham, moving gently, like cherishing an artifact of great significance and value. He massaged Graham’s thighs, combed through the thick tangle of hair on Graham’s groin, and palmed the underside of Graham’s shaft. It made him feel valuable, priceless even. And when Archie finally took him in his mouth, he felt invincible.
Archie moved in long, languid strokes, letting Graham rub against his lips, his chin, his cheek, before taking him again in his mouth. All the while, Graham watched in awe, hands bracing on the edge of the bed.
When he felt the pressure building, he reached down and brought Archie’s mouth up to his own, kissing him gently, reverently. They slid further up the bed, Graham falling on his back, Archie straddling his hips, and while they kissed. He pulled away, only long enough to spit on his hand, to reach back and lined Graham up beneath him, and then to sink down, to press himself onto Graham, slowly taking the length of his shaft before falling forward again and kissing Graham with wet, hot desire.
And he rocked, back and forth, hips bucking, Graham nearly slipping free before being pressed healily down upon again. Graham felt Archie’s shaft grinding against the hair on his navel, felt the trail of moisture begin to leak there. He wrapped his arms around Archie’s back, pulling him close, holding him tightly, feeling the muscles ripple against his forearms. They moaned freely, throats opening, lips vibrating, tongues continuing their exploration.
Eventually, they flipped over. Archie’s back hit the mattress and Graham settled between him, folding his legs against his chest and reentering him carefully. He lowered onto his elbow, pressed their foreheads together. Archie gripped his shoulders, clinging to him like a man lost at sea, clinging to the scrap of wood that determined his survival. And they moved, tenderly and unceasingly, crying out as the feeling grew and the pressure built. Archie reached down with one hand, the other braced behind Graham’s neck, and stroked himself furiously, joining Graham in the swell, until finally they both reached the precipice and, hand in hand, stepped off into oblivion together.
Graham groaned, burying his face in Archie’s neck as he filled him from the inside. Archie gasped, fingers clawing desperately as he erupted between them. They spilled themselves freely, offering themselves fully and without shame, a transcendental union of bodies, of souls poured out for the sake of the other, until finally the torrent calmed and they began to untangle.
“Christ,” Graham whispered, rolling onto his side. “We don’t ever miss, do we?”
Archie laughed, letting his legs lengthen, his knees falling wide. His torso glistened wet.
“I think we might’ve saved the best for last.”
They caught their breath, pulses calming, bodies cooling, eventually wiping themselves clean. And for a long while after, they lay together, face to face, legs brushing, tangled underneath the sheets. At first they talked, whispered, giggled, conspiring in the dark like schoolboys at a sleepover, daring to venture together into the late, unknown hours of the night, until eventually they grew quiet, holding each other’s gaze, hands resting on shoulders, on hips, on sternums, studying each other’s faces as if trying to memorize every last detail. Graham wanted to know this face, to remember it, to recall this perfect moment when he looked out into the world and was met with eyes that held nothing but adoration and trust.
And all the while, he wanted to yell, to rage, to cry. To curse the unfairness of it all that he should find something so sacred and good only to have it taken from him when he wanted it the most. He wanted to voice this to Archie, to ask whether Archie felt it too, to decry the cruelty of life, bringing them together, pulling them apart; but he didn’t want to disturb the quiet. He didn’t want to disturb the sleepy smile that hung on Archie’s face as they savored their last few moments of perfect, incandescent happiness.
So he bit his tongue. He swallowed his rage and held a smile of his own. And soon, as the night wore on, he felt his eyelids grow heavy. He fought against his body for as long as he could, keeping his eyes open, clinging to the moment, until at some point – he had no idea when – they closed a final time and he drifted off to sleep.
When he awoke the next morning, Archie was already gone.
