The dorm had gone quiet. The laughter from the earlier celebration still echoed faintly in the hallway, but the door to Archie's room was shut now. Outside, dusk had painted the sky in gentle strokes of lavender and ash-blue. A soft breeze stirred the curtains.
Archie sat cross-legged on his bed, legs wrapped in a blanket, nursing a lukewarm cup of tea. Across from him, William stood by the window, hands in his pockets, gaze distant.
Neither had spoken for several minutes. But it wasn't uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence only two people who had bled together could share.
Archie finally broke it, his voice quiet. "You don't have to stay, you know."
William turned, startled. "What?"
Archie looked down at his cup. "People know who you are now. Really know. They know your parents orchestrated a cover-up, that you disappeared for a year, that... that you were in love with a boy who vanished the night of your accident."
A pause.
"That boy is still here," William said, his voice soft but firm. "He didn't vanish. He got back up. So did I."
Archie looked up. "Yeah, but I'm not exactly good press."
"Neither am I anymore," William muttered, giving a tired half-smile. "The Connors are being dragged across every major network. There's an entire subreddit dedicated to decoding the files Amanda leaked. People are shocked. Some are disgusted. A few think I'm a liar. Some think I'm a hero."
"And some want to see you disappear just like they made me disappear."
William nodded. "Exactly."
Silence returned, heavy with unspoken things.
Archie's voice broke it again, barely above a whisper. "So what happens to us now?"
William walked over and knelt in front of him, placing a hand on the bed between them. "That depends on what you want."
Archie stared at him, the walls he'd spent months rebuilding now slowly falling again under the weight of William's gaze — not just the kind of gaze that sees, but the kind that remembers. That aches. That wants.
"I want to stop running," Archie said, his throat tight. "I want... peace. I want the nightmares to stop. I want a world where no one's trying to erase me. Or you."
"You want that with me?" William asked, voice trembling slightly.
Archie's eyes didn't waver. "I never stopped."
William exhaled shakily, then climbed up beside him. They sat shoulder to shoulder now, knees brushing. There was no rush. No drama. Just warmth.
"I've thought a lot about the night we tried to leave," William said quietly. "I used to think it was the worst night of my life. But I think it might have been the bravest."
Archie looked at him. "Because you were trying to save yourself?"
"No," William said, reaching out and taking Archie's hand, gently lacing their fingers. "Because I was trying to save us."
Archie leaned his head on William's shoulder, and for a while, they just breathed together.
"You know," William said softly, "they keep calling it 'The Fall of the Connors.' Like it's some kind of royal tragedy."
"It kind of is," Archie said, smirking. "Kingdom of manipulation, wealth, power, and lies. Brought down by a girl with a laptop, a stubborn boy with a diner job, and a love that refused to stay buried."
William chuckled. "Sounds like a book."
"Sounds like our life."
They sat in the waning light, the past still raw, the future uncertain — but something else lingered too. Not fear. Not sorrow.
Hope.
William tilted his head and whispered, "We'll take it slow. We don't have to prove anything to anyone. Not the media, not the world. Just each other."
Archie turned to him, smiling through tired eyes. "I'd like that."
A beat. A breath.
Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, William leaned in and kissed him.
Not desperate. Not fiery. Just soft, and sweet, and steady.
And this time, when Archie kissed back, he wasn't running from anything.
He was choosing.