Chapter Eight #2
The shop was narrow, warmly lit, and quiet. They ordered at the counter. Issaky asked before paying this time and to Ellis's surprise, he said yes. What's the point of seeing someone rich if you don't let them spend some money on you?
They sat near the window facing the Space Needle. It was the perfect scenery. No faces for Ellis to get confused by, no voices to overwhelm him. Just the pleasant, wet image of the needle.
Issaky admitted he’d researched for three hours to find a place that would suit Ellis.
“You didn't have to do that.” Ellis blushed, bringing his tea to his lips.
“I did,” was all Issaky said.
Ellis reached across the table and took his hand. “Thank you.”
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Their third date was a walk. Not toward anything in particular—just along the water, concrete damp from an earlier rain, the sky still deciding whether or not it was going to start pouring again.
Issaky fell into step beside Ellis without comment. No jockeying for pace, no polite hesitation. Just alignment. Ellis noticed it the way he noticed quiet things: how their footsteps landed almost together, how Issaky’s sleeve brushed his knuckles every few strides and never quite moved away.
They stopped at the railing to watch the ferries come and go. Massive, slow creatures, purposeful in a way that felt almost intimate. Issaky leaned his elbows on the cold metal and tilted his head.
“You ever think about how many people fall in love on those?” he asked, nodding toward a departing boat.
Ellis huffed a quiet laugh. “I try not to think about strangers’ love lives.”
Issaky grinned, bright and unapologetic. “Liar.”
Ellis felt warmth crawl up his neck, but he didn’t argue. He didn’t step away either.
They stood there longer than necessary, silence settling between them—not awkward, not heavy.
Just shared. Issaky hummed softly under his breath, some tune Ellis didn’t recognize, and Ellis found himself cataloging details: the way Issaky’s eyes softened when he wasn’t performing, the faint scar at his knuckle, the ease of his presence.
When they started walking again, Issaky bumped his shoulder lightly into Ellis's. Once. Then again, deliberate this time.
“So,” Issaky said, voice low and teasing. “You always this quiet on dates?” There was no malice behind it. Ellis couldn't even decide if Issaky was teasing him or not.
Ellis glanced at him for a moment before smiling. “Only the good ones.”
Issaky’s smile shifted—less sharp, more real. He slowed just a fraction, enough that Ellis adjusted without thinking.
There were no promises made. None needed. Just movement. Just understanding as they silently made their way back towards the port.
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By the fourth date, Ellis knew he was in trouble. Issaky was making him feel things he had never felt before. The ground felt lighter under his feet, the rain seemed to make his hair less frizzy, and the loud bussing in his apartment hallway didn't bother him as much.
They met at the bookstore downtown, the narrow one with uneven floors and handwritten recommendation cards tucked beneath the shelves.
It was a cute place and Ellis was excited to finally go in.
Issaky had met him just outside, wearing a black leather jacket and tight jeans. He looked bad, in a very good way.
Ellis tried his hardest to divert his eyes when Issaky leaned in for a hug. He wasn't big on hugs, or hand holding, or really anything that required him to touch another being for more than a few seconds. He did, however, find himself enjoying the strong, warm embrace of Issaky’s arms…see, trouble.
“I was thinking,” Issaky started, looking almost nervous for the first time since Ellis had met him, “we should pick a book out for each other."
It was sweet, and made Ellis smile without really meaning to, “I think that sounds like a great idea.”
Issaky relaxed and smiled before opening the door and gesturing for Ellis to enter. Ever the gentleman.
Once they got inside, they drifted apart almost immediately.
Ellis lost himself among the spines, the smell of paper and glue settling his nerves.
It reminded him–in a way–of the record store.
He pulled a novel he’d loved in high school, then hesitated and put it back, choosing something gentler instead.
Something he could imagine Issaky reading slowly, dog-earing pages.
It was a romance fantasy with fairies and some shit Ellis didn't really pay mind too.
He was more a bibliography or scifi type of guy.
Ellis struck Issaky as a romantic, though.
When they found each other again, they didn’t say much. Just exchanged books—Issaky’s were warm from his hands, a folded receipt marking a bookmark. Their fingers brushed. Lingered. Ellis felt something click into place, like a door left ajar on purpose.
Ellis didn't want to make Issaky nervous, so he didn't look at the cover. He just tucked it into his canvas bag and watched as Issaky slipped his receipt into his coat pocket.
Outside, dusk pressed in closely, the city softened by amber streetlights and smooth music drifting from the men on the corner.
They walked back to Ellis's building, shoulders nearly touching, conversation easy but unnecessary. Ellis was acutely aware of his own body—of how much space he was taking up, how fast his thoughts moved—but Issaky’s presence steadied him, an anchor without weight.
Ellis liked that their dates weren't conversation heavy.
They didn't need to fill silence with boring ‘get to know you’ questions.
They stopped at the steps in front of Ellis's apartment.
It was an older building, the only one they could afford thanks to his mom constantly losing jobs.
Ellis knew some would be embarrassed to live in such a sketchy part of Seattle, especially when their date was from a much nicer side.
But he knew the other man didn't care. Issaky turned to face him fully, the noise of the street falling away.
He took Ellis's hands careful, as though checking first if this was welcome.
Ellis's breath hitched—but he didn’t pull away.
“I’d like to kiss you,” Issaky said.
Not a question. Not a demand. An offering.
“Yes,” Ellis said, it was the only word he seemed to get out.
The kiss was brief and careful. Issaky leaned in just enough, mouth soft, pressure light. It wasn’t about taking—it was about listening. Ellis felt it everywhere anyway, in the warmth of Issaky’s hands in his, in the way the world narrowed to this one precise point of contact.
When they pulled back, Ellis's senses rushed in all at once—the traffic, the lights, the closeness. The familiar swell of overwhelm crested sharp and sudden.
And of course, Issaky noticed. He didn’t step closer. Didn’t ask for more. He stayed exactly where he was, hands still but present, voice low and steady. “Hey,” he said gently, “you’re okay.”
Ellis nodded, grounding himself in that gentleness, in the fact that nothing was being asked of him now. That he was allowed to take the moment at his own speed.
After a beat, Issaky smiled—soft and unguarded. “Thank you for trusting me.”
Ellis didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. Instead he watched Issaky go a minute later, heart full in a way that felt new and terrifying and right.
It mattered—the kiss, of course it did. But what mattered more was this: being seen. Being met with care instead of impatience.
By the time Ellis unlocked his door, he knew. He was already falling.