Chapter Seven
I am still surprised by myself, Jack, by how wanting something can feel like standing on the edge of a high place—heart racing, knees weak, knowing the fall would hurt and wanting it anyway.
I spent so long believing fear was a sign to step back, but now I wonder if it’s only proof that the thing matters.
Maybe this time, I’m choosing not to fear because I am brave, but because I am tired of letting it make all my decisions for me.
Still here, Clyde
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Wanting something had always felt like a liability to Ellis, the kind of thing that snuck up when he wasn’t paying attention and left him cleaning up afterward.
He preferred needs—measurable, manageable, easy to justify.
Hunger. Rent. Quiet. So when Issaky asked if he wanted to get lunch with him, the word want barely registered before fear surged in to take its place.
It happened during a lull so quiet Ellis could hear the hum of the refrigerator in the back.
Issaky leaned against the counter as if he weren’t already occupying too much of Ellis's awareness, and he asked plainly, without flourish, like it was reasonable to want.
Ellis was already preparing his refusal before he even realized it.
“I can’t,” he said automatically, not looking at Issaky. His hands continued moving through the vinyl bin, aligning spines that were already straight. “I’m working.”
Issaky didn’t retreat. He didn’t press. He just shifted his weight, the counter creaking softly under his elbow.
“Okay,” he said. “That’s fair.”
Relief flickered through Ellis too quickly, followed by irritation at himself for feeling it at all. He liked clean exits. He liked when things ended exactly where he expected them to.
“Clyde said you could take an early lunch,” Issaky added, like he was mentioning the weather.
Ellis stopped reorganizing. Of course he had. Clyde had always believed in small risks, in nudging doors open instead of waiting for them to swing on their own. He pictured Clyde in the back, smiling that knowing smile, already convinced this was good for him.
“I didn’t agree to that,” Ellis said simply.
Issaky nodded. “I know. That’s why I’m asking you.”
Ellis finally looked at him then, and that was his second mistake. Issaky wasn’t smiling in that sharp, teasing way he often did. His expression was open, careful, like he was braced for impact but choosing to stand there anyway.
“Before you say no,” Issaky said, softer now, “I was thinking, Jay’s taco truck? Down by Pike Place.”
The name landed low in Ellis's chest, dislodging something warm and stubborn. Jay’s wasn’t just food.
It was routine. It was predictable. It was the place he went when the city felt too big and he needed to remind himself he still fit inside it.
How Issaky knew that, Ellis had no idea. Probably Clyde.
Issaky watched the conflict play out on Ellis's face without interrupting. “It’s close,” he added. “Ten-minute walk. We can be back before your break technically ends.”
Ellis told himself he was irritated that Issaky had done his research. That he’d chosen something that mattered. Irritation was safer than admitting he’d been thoughtful.
“Fine,” Ellis said finally. “But it’s not a date.” He needed to clarify, if only for himself.
Issaky’s mouth twitched, like he was biting back something smug. “Of course it isn’t.”
Ellis grabbed his jacket before his resolve could dissolve completely.
The door chimed behind them, and the air outside hit him like a gentler version of reality.
The rain had finally given up, leaving the streets washed clean and shining.
Sunlight filtered through the clouds in thin, cautious strands, like it didn’t quite trust Seattle not to change its mind.
Issaky fell into step beside him without comment, matching his pace easily. That alone made Ellis's chest loosen a fraction. He hated when people rushed him. Hated when they tried to fill silence like it was a flaw instead of a function.
“So,” Issaky said after a block, glancing at the sky. “First nice day in weeks. Think the city planned this for us?”
“There is no us,” Ellis said.
Issaky grinned. “Sure. My mistake.”
The closer they got to Pike Place, the louder the world became. Voices layered over each other—laughter, music, the metallic crash of vendors setting up for the afternoon. Ellis's senses sharpened automatically, cataloging sounds and smells, gauging how close he was to the edge.
He tried to nonchalantly put in his noise cancelers, but Issaky noticed.
“You want the left side?” Issaky asked quietly, already angling them toward a less crowded path.
Ellis blinked. “Yes. Thank you.”
Issaky didn’t make a big deal out of it. He just adjusted, like it was the obvious thing to do. It made Ellis's chest tingle and his hands buzz.
Pike Place Market opened up in front of them in all its chaotic glory—rows of stalls bursting with color, flowers spilling over buckets, fish glistening on ice under too-bright lights.
Tourists clustered with wide eyes and cameras raised, while locals moved through with practiced ease, like this was just another grocery run.
Jay’s taco truck sat where it always did, paint faded but proud, the smell of grilled meat cutting cleanly through everything else. Ellis felt his shoulders relax.
Jay nodded at him like an old friend. “Usual?”
“Yes,” Ellis said, warmth slipping into his voice.
Issaky ordered something different, claiming he had never tried it before. He was adventurous, and Ellis didn’t know if he liked it or feared it. He watched Issaky stare at the grill with interest, like this was all new to him.
Once Jay finished, he set their trays on the counter and pulled out a card reader. Ellis dug into his pants, praying his credit card was still in there.
“I got it, El.” Issaky smiled and swiped a fancy black card before Ellis could argue.
Jay thanked them, and Issaky handed Ellis his tray before handing Jay a twenty dollar bill and guiding Ellis to the bench near the edge of the market, sunlight pooling there like an invitation.
“I could have paid for myself,” Ellis grumbled.
“You coulda,” Issaky smirked, “but I wanted to.”
Ellis ignored the jolt that went through him and sat carefully, grounding himself in the texture of wood and the heat of the paper-wrapped tacos in his hands.
Sometimes it was really inconvenient how slow he had to move between settings and places.
If he didn’t adjust to his new sensations and surroundings, the rest of his day would be off.
“This is your place,” Issaky said matter-of-factly.
Ellis frowned. “Clyde told you.”
“No?” Issaky said. “You did. Just not with words. I've seen the wrappers behind the desk.”
Ellis didn’t know how to respond to that, so he ate instead. The food was perfect—familiar and exact, the flavors anchoring him firmly in his body. He became aware, distantly, that Issaky wasn’t talking. Halfway through the second taco, Ellis noticed Issaky wasn’t eating anymore either.
Instead, he was watching him. Not openly, not in a way that made Ellis's skin prickle. It was quieter than that, like he was noticing something he didn’t want to interrupt.
“What?” Ellis said, sharper than he meant to.
Issaky smiled, small and unbothered. “Nothing. You just look… settled.”
That word lodged somewhere under Ellis's ribs, and he wiped his hands on a napkin, buying himself time.
“This place helps,” he said. “It’s predictable.”
“Yeah,” Issaky said easily. “You are too.”
Ellis frowned. “That wasn’t a compliment.”
“I meant it as one.”
He glanced at Issaky and noticed details he hadn’t catalogued yet—the way Issaky’s knees angled toward him, the careful distance between their shoulders. Close enough to feel warmth when the breeze shifted, far enough that he didn’t feel trapped. It wasn’t accidental. It was considered.
“You’re very observant,” Ellis said.
Issaky shrugged. “I like noticing things.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“Only if you don’t enjoy what you’re noticing.”
Ellis's chest tightened, not unpleasantly. He took another bite just to give his hands something to do. The sunlight caught Issaky’s mouth when he smiled again, softer this time, and Ellis hated how aware he was of it.
Of him. Of the fact that he hadn’t tried to touch him once.
He hadn’t pushed or filled the silence just to hear himself talk like most people did.
“You don’t have to stay long,” Issaky said, as if he’d sensed the shift. “We can head back whenever.”
“I know,” Ellis said. Then, after a moment, “I’m fine.”
Issaky didn’t say okay. He said, “I’m glad.”
That did something to Ellis—small but unmistakable. The idea that his comfort mattered more than the moment. More than whatever this was supposed to be.
They sat in silence for the rest of their meal, watching children feed the ducks.
It was calm and peaceful, something Ellis hadn’t experienced in a long time.
When they finally stood to leave, the crowd had thickened, tourists spilling into each other with the careless enthusiasm of people who didn’t have to think about where they placed their feet.
Issaky stepped slightly ahead, not leading exactly, but clearing a narrow path through the worst of it.
He didn’t reach back for Ellis, didn’t ask, he just made space.
The walk back felt shorter, though Ellis knew it wasn’t.
His internal clock hadn’t been ticking the way it usually did.
He wasn’t counting steps. He wasn’t rehearsing exits.
The rules were still there—time limits, expectations—but they’d loosened slightly, like they’d realized they didn’t have to be pulled so tight to hold.
“Alright,” Issaky said as the record store came back into view. “How was lunch?”
“It met expectations,” Ellis said.
“That sounds like high praise coming from you.”
Ellis hesitated, then nodded once. “It is.”
They stopped outside the door. The bell inside chimed faintly as someone else came and went, the familiar sound grounding Ellis. Sunlight lingered on the sidewalk, warm and deceptive. It caught Issaky’s face and made him look almost angelic.
“This still wasn’t a date,” Ellis said, quieter now. Trying to convince himself more than Issaky.
Issaky smiled—not teasing, not smug. Just honest. “I know.”
And somehow, that felt like flirting too.
“I have to go downtown to the bank,” Issaky said, shoving his hands into his jacket, “for Clyde.”
“Wouldn’t that have been easier to leave from Pike Place then? You didn’t need to walk me back.” Ellis spoke, though he didn’t know why. Who cared what was more convenient for Issaky?
“Yeah, but I wanted to,” Issaky smiled. “You should get back in there before Clyde starts to worry.”
Ellis glanced down at his watch and realized he was five minutes past his lunch break. Fuck. There goes today’s routine.
He thanked Issaky one last time for lunch before going back inside the store alone, the bell chiming its usual greeting.
The space felt subtly altered, like a room after someone opened a window.
Nothing was different—same shelves, same dust, same low hum—but Ellis was aware of his body in a way he hadn’t been before. Warmer. Looser. Less braced.
He told himself lunch had only worked because Issaky had followed the rules. Because he’d let Ellis set the pace, had read his cues without trying to rewrite them. That was the sensible explanation, the one that didn’t require examining the part of himself that had wanted more time, not less.
Wanting still scared him. It always had. But as he slipped his headphones on and returned to work, he couldn’t shake the thought that maybe fear wasn’t a warning this time—maybe it was just the feeling of standing close to something that mattered, and choosing not to step back.