Chapter Four
My love, I’m afraid of being mistaken for ungrateful.
Of people thinking my hesitation means I don’t see the kindness being offered.
The truth is, I see it too clearly. I just know how easily good intentions can erase the things that kept me alive in the first place.
I don’t want to lose what I’ve learned to love while thanking someone for trying to help.
Still here, Clyde
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Unfortunately for Ellis, Issaky did not disappear after that first visit.
In the month that followed, he returned four times—always unannounced, always carrying the same easy confidence, as if the store were already threaded into his routine.
Thursdays, Mondays, and once on a Saturday afternoon when the place was crowded enough that Ellis had to retreat to the back corner and reorganize inventory just to keep his breathing steady.
Four visits weren’t a lot objectively, but each one landed like a dropped plate—sharp, disruptive, and impossible to ignore.
The worst part wasn’t even Issaky’s presence.
It was where he went. Every time, after a few minutes of wandering the aisles and commenting on a record or two, Issaky would glance toward the back room.
Clyde would nod, and the two of them would disappear behind the curtain together, voices dropping low enough that Ellis couldn’t make out the words—only the tone.
Warm laughter, serious murmurs, the scrape of a chair being pulled closer to the desk.
The first time, Ellis told himself it didn’t matter. The second time, he told himself it was temporary. By the third, his stomach was in a constant low-grade knot that no amount of controlled breathing could fully undo. By the fourth, he couldn’t lie to himself anymore.
He didn’t know what he was feeling. Jealousy didn’t quite fit—it felt too sharp, too petty for something this big.
Resentment came closer, but that implied intent, and he didn’t think Clyde had ever tried to hurt him.
Left out, maybe. Unmoored. Like someone had quietly shifted the furniture in a room he navigated by muscle memory alone.
He hated that Issaky had access to Clyde that he didn’t.
Not because Clyde was anyone’s possession—but because the back room had always been neutral territory for them.
It was for storage and paperwork, a space Ellis rarely entered unless invited.
And now it felt…closed. Occupied. Off-limits in a way it never had before.
He caught himself listening for their voices, straining to catch fragments of conversation while pretending to wipe down shelves that didn’t need cleaning.
He hated that about himself too—the way his focus fractured, the way he couldn’t stop tracking the threat even when he wanted to. Even when there wasn't one.
Issaky didn’t help. He greeted Ellis every time like they were already acquaintances.
“Hello, Ellis,” he would say, in a warm and familiar way, and teasing.
“Good to see you.” As if Ellis's name was something he rolled easily on his tongue. As if he hadn’t destabilized Ellis's entire sense of safety the first time he walked through the door.
Ellis did not like teasing, especially from men who were egotistical and threatening to disrupt his entire life. And yet, whenever Issaky smiled and called him ‘Mr. Carter’ Ellis would get a warm, fuzzy feeling deep in his stomach. He didn't like that.
Issaky never pushed and never confronted. Never brought up the sale directly in front of Ellis again. That might have been the most unsettling part—how considerate he seemed, how carefully he avoided poking the bruise he’d already left behind. Ellis didn’t trust it.
On the fourth visit, the meeting in the back ran longer than usual.
The store was quiet, the kind of afternoon lull that made the hum of the refrigerator feel louder and heavier.
Ellis stood behind the counter, reorganizing receipts that were already organized, his hands moving automatically while his thoughts spiraled.
Laughter drifted from behind the curtain—Clyde’s laugh, soft, fond, unmistakable. Something inside Ellis's chest snapped.
The old, red curtain parted slowly, and Issaky emerged.
He looked more beautiful than usual, and whether that was because of the giant smile plastered on his face or because he was wearing a more casual outfit for once, Ellis didn't know. His dark blue jeans were worn, his black shirt hugging his biceps in a way that felt illegal. Ellis forced his eyes back down at the receipt pile, chastising himself to get a grip. Maybe Issaky hadn’t noticed his staring.
“Like what you see, El?” Issaky smirked.
El? No one had ever called him that. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not. Awfully feminine.
“No,” Ellis said, attempting to roll his eyes. He’d never been good at it, “I was hoping you were Clyde.”
Issaky pulled his bottom lip into his mouth like he was trying to stop a laugh. “So you’re into older men then?”
Ellis scrunched his brows and made a disgusted face. He didn’t know if he had a type—he had only ever been with one woman and he didn't think sucking one guy's dick in high school really counted for much—but he knew he wasn’t into Clyde.
“I’m just messing with you,” Issaky said, glancing down at Ellis's half-drunk spritzer. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
Issaky nodded, still smiling, then walked out the front door.
The curtain shifted again, and Clyde emerged alone, his expression serious enough to make Ellis's stomach drop immediately.
“Ellis,” Clyde said. “Can we talk?”
The words were gentle, the tone careful, and that was how Ellis knew it was bad.
He nodded, following Clyde to the back room.
The space smelled faintly of dust and old paper, familiar but suddenly hostile.
Ellis stood instead of sitting, shoulders tight, hands tucked into the sleeves of his sweater.
Clyde closed the door, the quiet sound of the wood meeting the frame rang too loud in Ellis's ears.
He didn’t sit right away. He leaned against the desk, rubbing a hand over his face as if trying to gather himself.
“I should have told you sooner,” he said.
Ellis's pulse began to race.
“I didn’t want to spring it on you,” Clyde continued. “But I also didn’t want you overhearing something half-formed and thinking the worst.”
The worst was already happening in Ellis's head, vivid and relentless.
“Ellis,” Clyde said softly. “Issaky is going to buy the store.”
The words landed like a punch to the face. Ellis's vision tunneled. The room seemed to tilt, edges blurring as his brain struggled to process the information fast enough to make sense of it.
“No,” he said. “No, you said—”
“I know what I said,” Clyde replied quickly. “And it’s still true. I didn’t sell lightly. I didn’t sell without conditions.”
“You said not without me,” Ellis snapped.
“And I meant that,” Clyde said. “You’re part of the deal. He wants you to stay on full time. Benefits, health care, paid time off. A real wage.”
Ellis's head buzzed. Benefits. Health care. Paid time off. Words people said when they thought logic could override panic.
“You decided,” he said, voice rising. “Without me.”
Clyde straightened. “I decided because I didn’t have a choice much longer.”
“You always have a choice!” Ellis shouted. His voice was too loud, too sharp, ricocheting off the walls. His heart slammed against his ribs, skin buzzing as if he were on the edge of something electrical and dangerous.
“You didn’t ask,” he continued, words tumbling out faster now, tangled and raw. “You didn’t tell me. You let him come here and talk to you and—what—bond? While I stood out there pretending everything was fine?”
“Ellis,” Clyde said, reaching for him.
“Don’t,” Ellis yelled, stepping back.
Clyde stopped immediately, hands dropping to his sides, face stricken.
“You promised,” Ellis said, throat burning. “You promised no surprises.”
“I know,” Clyde said hoarsely. “And I’m sorry. But this—this keeps the store open. This keeps you employed. This gives you security I can’t provide anymore.”
“I don’t want his security!” Ellis shouted. “I want this!” He gestured wildly around the room, movements sharp and uncoordinated. “You don’t get to replace everything and call it the same. You don’t get to sell my life out from under me and expect me to say thank you!”
Clyde’s eyes were wet. “I’m not replacing it,” he said. “I’m protecting it.”
“You’re erasing it!” Ellis screamed. The meltdown hit fully, fast and total. Hands shook uncontrollably, chest too tight. He paced the small room in jagged steps, unable to stop moving, unable to stop the torrent of words pouring out of him.
“You know what happens when things change without warning,” he said. “You know what it does to me. And you did it anyway.”
“That’s not fair,” Clyde said, voice breaking.
“I don’t care!” Ellis yelled. “I don’t care if it’s fair. I can’t—I can’t do this. I can’t work for him. I can’t watch him turn this place into something else and pretend it’s fine.”
Clyde looked older at that moment than Ellis had ever seen him. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he said quietly. The words cut deeper than anything else.
Tears burned in Ellis's eyes, hot and furious. “You already did.” He grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door with shaking hands, yanking it on as the fabric snagged awkwardly over his sleeves. “I’m going home,” he said. “I can’t be here.”
Clyde nodded slowly. “Take the rest of the day.”
Ellis didn’t say goodbye. He couldn’t trust himself to. The walk home was a blur of mild air and pounding blood, thoughts spiraling and replaying the conversation in jagged fragments.