Arrows Through Archer

by Nash Summers

I could be patient. I could wait. For Mallory, I could wait a lifetime.

“You’re so damn young, Archer. And so damn beautiful. And you have an entire lifetime to live away from here, away from me.”

“No.” That was all it took to break my heart. A two-letter word. Not a death in the family, not a sibling disowning me. A two-letter word from the man I loved.

“I hope you find happiness, Archer.” “I did, with you.”

“We can’t keep loving ghosts, Mallory.” And for the last time, his eyes met mine. “It’s not that easy, Archer.” “Well, I guess we’re both about to find out if it’s any easier loving one more.”

But to my absolute horror, and not for the first time, it wasn’t Sophia’s face that came into my mind.

I remembered a conversation I’d had with a young man years ago. I’d been sad for him, but more than that, I’d felt some kind of spark, something close to companionship or understanding. It was that feeling that human beings rarely had when they met another person and their souls spoke to one another.

He might’ve still looked like an angel, but even from a mile away, I would be able to see the devil on his shoulder. Archer.

I turned to him. And when our eyes met, I knew in that sliver of a second what a huge mistake I’d made.

I’d made a mistake letting him go.

I’d thought that since I’d been living my own lonely existence the past few years, I’d be able to continue. But I couldn’t. Not after meeting him and knowing a person like him was in the universe.

Even the thought of him with another man made me want to puke.

It was the respect and care he had for something I’d created with my own hands, and it was just a fucking table.

all I could think of was that every part of his heart, body, and soul should be with me. Me. Only me.

“I will always want you, Archer.”

His hair was a mess, and I was pretty sure his shirt was on backward. And he looked perfect, just like that, setting sun lighting up his hair, shyness written all over his face.

And then he looked up at me. No.

This wasn’t one-sided. This—we—were magnetic. Between us ran a ley line. It was heady and deep, thicker than the Earth’s crust and hotter than its core.

Yes, I thought. This. This is happiness. This is what I want.

Archer Hart was anything but expected.

This time, I would be a smarter man and I’d thank my lucky stars each night that this beautiful, imperfect young man chose to smile at me over anyone else.

“When did you make this?” he asked, his voice deep. “Over the years.” He looked at me. “You didn’t know you’d see me again. What if you’d never seen me again?” “Then it would’ve sat on that bookshelf and waited for you.”

“Say you like it.” “I do. I love it. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful. Or anything that I knew was made… just for me.” “I know exactly how you feel.”

“How can you not know I love you, Archer? I’ve dreamt of you every night that you weren’t by my side. I can’t imagine someone knowing you like I have and not loving you.”

I hoped he knew I’d do anything for him.

I hoped he knew he was beautiful and imperfect and how desperately I wanted—needed—him to be happy.

Again, I felt that soul-deep connection to him. It was an ethereal sensation of belonging and pride, like his happiness was linked to my own and mine to his.

I couldn’t remember the last time I felt happier.

“I love you, Archer.” I kissed the top of his head. He held me a fraction tighter. “I love you too.”