Rain tapped softly against the windows of Archie's room, each drop like a ticking clock counting down to something inevitable. The room—normally a prison of order and expectation—felt different tonight. The soft hum of the storm outside dulled the edges of reality, making everything feel suspended in time.
Archie sat cross-legged on the floor, his back resting against the side of William's bed, a worn backpack beside him stuffed with essentials: a change of clothes, a few snacks, his beat-up leather journal, and a crumpled train timetable. Across from him, William knelt, folding his sweater with the kind of reverence one might reserve for a sacred artifact.
Their eyes met.
"I still can't believe we're doing this," Archie whispered, a flicker of a smile pulling at his lips. He reached for William's hand. "Are you sure?"
William nodded, his thumb brushing over Archie's knuckles like a promise. "I've never been more sure of anything. We leave tonight. Once we're out of the city, we'll take the early train to the coast. No more hiding. No more pretending I'm someone I'm not."
Archie tilted his head, studying William's face. "Are you scared?"
"Yes," William said without hesitation. Then, softer, "But not of running. I'm scared of staying."
That answer undid something in Archie. He reached forward and pulled William into a hug—tight, protective, tender. For a long moment, they just breathed in sync, the storm outside like a heartbeat echoing through the room.
"When we get there," Archie murmured into William's neck, "We'll get jobs. We'll find a tiny apartment, maybe one with a crooked balcony and a leaky roof, and we'll eat cheap takeout and sleep under the same blanket every night."
William chuckled, the sound low and warm. "You forgot the part where we adopt and name stray cats and make up elaborate stories about their secret lives."
Archie leaned back, grinning. "I didn't forget. I just assumed that was implied."
Their laughter faded into a soft, charged silence. William leaned forward, brushing a loose strand of hair from Archie's forehead. "You saved me," he whispered. "Back then... when everything felt dark, you were the only light I could see."
Archie's eyes burned, but he didn't look away. "And you pulled me out of a life I'd given up on. We saved each other."
William hesitated, then said, "I want to remember this forever. This moment. Us. Just like this."
And then he kissed him.
It was soft at first—delicate, cautious. But then it deepened, grew bolder. William's hands cradled Archie's face as if trying to memorize every contour, every breath. Archie melted into him, clutching the front of William's hoodie like a lifeline. It was a kiss laced with fear and freedom, with a thousand unspoken words and a vow they both felt in their bones.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless and trembling, William rested his forehead against Archie's.
"I love you," he said. "I don't care if it's too soon or too complicated or too dangerous. I love you."
Archie swallowed hard, emotion thick in his voice. "I love you, too. God, I love you. And when we get out of here... I'll say it every day."
The storm intensified outside, wind howling like a warning. But inside that room, wrapped in the glow of their shared dreams, they felt untouchable.
They climbed onto the bed, fully dressed, lying side by side in the dark. William's hand found Archie's again, fingers intertwining without hesitation.
They spoke in whispers, planning their new life as if it were already written in the stars. A bookstore near the beach. Sunday mornings tangled in sheets. Matching mugs that never quite matched. It was all so real in that moment, so vivid, so achingly close.
Sleep came slowly, the way it does when you're afraid of waking up to something less beautiful.
But fate was already turning the key.
Outside, far below, a sleek black car waited at the estate's gates. And the plans they had made, the life they were dreaming of—was about to be shattered.
Yet in that fragile moment before the world tore them apart, William and Archie had something real. Something worth remembering.
The night they almost got away.