Zach can remember the beginning, remember that night as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. He thinks about it a lot, really. Probably more than he should.
He remembers what Chris wore that night; some plaid monstrosity that he planned on burning the next chance he got. Admittedly, though, Chris made it look charming.
He remembers where they went, what each of them had to eat. He can even remember most of the conversation.
He remembers the walk back to Chris' place, remembers walking him to his front door. He remembers the awkward goodbyes and wondering whether he should kiss him or not. He remembers walking away, feeling like he'd missed his chance.
He remembers Chris opening the door again, calling him back. He remembers nearly running back up the walkway.
He remembers Chris pushing him against the wall just inside the door. He remembers hot kisses, wandering hands, clothes being stripped. He remembers the feel of soft skin and solid muscle.
Zach glances down to see blue eyes blink open, still fuzzy with sleep, still gorgeous even with the graying at his temples.
Nearly twenty years later and Zach still remembers the beginning, where they started. And when those blue eyes turn bright and he sees a smile spread across his lover's face, he knows Chris does, too.