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Graham supposed he should’ve expected Damon to move away. The man had the voice of a hundred angels, at least to Graham. He could play keys like no tomorrow, and even the basic amount of guitar he could strum was heavenly. Not only that, but he was just- attractive.
Eyes that bored into Grahams soul, a body built to be sculpted, and that messy, dreamy hair. Graham had always tried not to be jealous, but it was like trying not to be jealous of a model in a magazine.
Graham supposed he should’ve expected Damon to leave him.
He watched the people bustle around him in the airport, scrambling for their tickets and their bags and even their children, who discovered it their personal duty to test just how clean the floors were.
And mostly, he watched Damon. Those white teeth that were on display as he clutched his bag with the free hand he had, the other holding onto Grahams. Graham had always fancied Damon, but he knew Damon never felt that way. Not that Damon didn’t love him, of course he did, but not the love that Graham wanted.
Graham had never asked him, though, so there was always that shred, splinter-like fragment of hope that he buried deep down.
Damon looked over and met Grahams eyes, his smile dimming as he saw the blank look on Grahams face that wasn’t blank enough. The slight crease in his brow, the way his chin prickled. Damon studied him for a moment. Graham adjusted his glasses so they sat further up his face, trying to busy himself.
“You can always visit,” Damon soothed, not well enough, though, because Grahams eyes prickled and he cleared his throat to cut off the whimper that clawed up his mouth. “Graham, look at me.”
Graham obeyed, because he could never deny Damon. He met the older boys gaze, fixing him with the dark brown eyes that held tears. Graham whimpered as Damon furrowed his eyebrows in concern.
“Grah,” he whispered. “If you want me to stay, say the word.”
Graham knew he couldn’t, and it wouldn’t matter. He was just another anchor in a ship trying to sail, and he couldn’t torture Damon, not like that.
He just Looked away, his gaze meeting the grounds.
The speakers above called for Damons flight. This was it— Graham would never see Damon again. He whimpered a goodbye as Damon pressed a kiss to his cheek, the last one Graham would receive.
Damon hesitantly pulled away and began to walk. He didn’t turn around as he left, no, he wasn’t an idiot. Graham wished he was, just a little, so he could maybe see what he would miss.
What? Thought Graham. What would he miss? Me? Yeah, right. He laughed to himself, watching as Damon faded into the crowds and vanished from Grahams sight.
He let the tears fall from his eyes, and he shut them to make them fall. He took his glasses off his face and let himself cry.
—
Graham watched the plane leave. With his beloved Damon inside, watched the plane fly into the sky towards one of the countries Damon had rambled on about. Graham wished he had listened, but the idea of Damon leaving had petrified him.
He wiped his eyes and put his glasses back on. He turned his back from the airport. Graham had never even told Damon how he felt, never looked into the eyes and had them say the same thing he had always said with his eyes.
He took the first step toward his car, a car that once would lead to his apartment that he once shared with Damon. And then to the job he would see Damon at, who would go there just to see Graham, and so on and so forth, to all the places he used to enjoy with Damon.
He wondered if Damon would think of him as Graham thought of Damon, if maybe one day he would realize that Graham loved him and that Damon secretly loved him as well. He supposed it would be too late by then, though.
Graham left the airport. He got into his and Damon’s car— well, just his, now, and drove to their apartment. His apartment.
—
Truthfully, Graham didn’t know what to do with himself. He had arrived home only fifteen minutes before, but he sat at the couch sobbing. He had never realized so strongly how Damon’s presence had comforted him.
Graham sobbed until his eyes ran dry, and he finally raised his head. Damon had left his acoustic guitar, and it felt like a sick punishment, even if Graham had, in theory, done nothing wrong. He let his fingers ghost the strings, each one plucking a soft tune and singing to him.
Graham sobbed, though no tears followed in suit, just an agonizing cry that swallowed him. He didn’t want to go outside. He didn’t want to see anyone, didn’t want anyone to see him. Not like this, no, never like this.
A knock arrived at the door. Graham didn’t want to get up, but the people-pleasing part of him wobbled to the slab of wood. He opened it slowly, eyes peeking outside the door.
Graham gasped in delight as he met Damon’s eyes. He flung the door open. Damon grinned wider than Graham had ever seen, and Graham tackled the man with all his strength.
“You came back,” Graham whimpered, teeth pressed against Damon’s neck in a wide grin. “You really did.”
“Well, yeah, I couldn’t leave with the image of you crying in my skull, now, could I?” Damon kissed Grahams hair.
“I love you so much, Day” Graham replied, laughing. He paused for a moment, stepping back. Graham suddenly felt trapped, admitting his longing. “I didn’t-“
“I love you too, Grah,” Damon took his hand and tugged him closer. Graham wanted to say something snarky, anything, but he just whimpered as Damon’s hands crawled to his neck. “Always have.”
Damon caught Grahams mouth halfway, and Graham had never felt more loved.