Elliot ditched his jock reputation after high school. He happily traded his cleats and shoulder pads for college cafeteria food and seminars notes. Now, without the distraction of football, he has managed to find success at the University of Minneso...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The drizzle of rain had turned into a downpour. Elliot could hear the heavy raindrops pelting the patina roof of the hotel as he walked down the muggy corridor. He made his way up to the second floor, trusting some wobbly stairs to support his weight. There were buckets lining a skinny hallway, collecting the water dripping from the cracks in the ceiling. A dull rumble of thunder echoed against the paint-chipping walls, but Elliot kept wandering past each door until he reached Pierce's room.
The brass doorknob was as tarnished as the weather roof. Well-loved, Elliot thought. He nudged it forward, and when the door was fully creaked opened, he caught sight of Pierce - frantic.
Elliot stood in the doorway for a moment, admiring his boyfriend's panicked state. The glass doors to the balcony were open wide, blowing in spurts of water and gusts of wind. The metallic scent of the Metro and the masking perfume of geraniums floated into the dim room. There was a menagerie of lit and unlit candles on the floor. Strewn trays of damp croissants and smooshed fruit were being accented by the unflattering light. A tragic display of failed romance. Elliot's eyebrows furrowed, watching Pierce rush from the balcony back into the room, again and again with half-melted candles and overflowing champagne glass in his hands.
"Pierce?" Elliot finally spoke.
Pierce stopped at the sound of Elliot's voice. When he looked up, his face was dripping wet - like a sad pet caught in a storm. His clothes had been soaked through. The button-down shirt he was wearing clung to his chest, and Elliot selfishly wished it was white instead of grey so that it would've become transparent. It had been too long since he had seen his bare skin.
