Chapter Eleven
Dear Clyde, I’m not angry anymore. I think whatever sharpness I had burned itself out while I wasn’t looking.
What’s left is this dull, constant ache that has nothing to do with blame and everything to do with absence.
I miss touching you in all the small, unremarkable ways that used to feel like proof of being alive.
Still here, Jack
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Issaky had already decided he wasn’t going to pace.
That was the lie he told himself while he crossed the apartment for the fifth time, turned the lamp off, turned it back on, adjusted the blinds by half an inch, then stood in the middle of the living room with his hands on his hips like a man trying to remember what he’d come in here for in the first place.
Ellis was late. Not late in the way that meant something was wrong—Ellis was rarely late—but late enough that Issaky had time to think, which was always the real danger.
Issaky didn’t spiral. That was another thing people assumed about him because he was intense, because he spoke with certainty, because he liked control. But his mind didn’t scatter. It lined things up. It reviewed facts. It ran through outcomes like a chessboard.
Fact: Ellis had snapped at him two nights ago. Not cruelly or intentionally. But sharply enough that Issaky had felt it land.
Fact: Ellis had gone quiet afterward. Apologized once, stiff and inadequate, then retreated the way he always did when he felt like he’d done damage he didn’t know how to repair.
Fact: Ellis had texted that morning—Can I come over tonight? I need to talk to you—and Issaky had said yes without hesitation.
Issaky was not angry.
He’d known that almost immediately after he left Ellis at the restaurant, which had surprised him less than it should have. Anger required a sense of injustice, of imbalance. What Ellis had done hadn’t felt like an attack; it had felt like fear flailing for an exit.
Issaky understood fear.
The knock came right as Issaky was considering making tea for a third time. He didn’t rush. He never rushed. He walked to the door, grounded, deliberate, and opened it.
Ellis stood there with his shoulders drawn in, coat still on, eyes too dull for how bright green his eyes usually were. He looked like someone bracing for impact.
Issaky took him in—because he always did when it came to people he cared for, because attention was his first language—and stepped back, closing the door.
“Come in,” he said, already reaching for Ellis's coat. Not a question. An instruction softened by familiarity.
Ellis hesitated for half a second, then handed it over.
The apartment felt warmer once Ellis was inside. Issaky noticed that too, filed it away. He hung the coat and waited. He didn’t want to fill the silence. That was important. Issaky knew when to press and when to hold space open like an offering. This was the latter.
Ellis stood near the couch, hands twisting together, gaze flicking everywhere but Issaky’s face.
Issaky hated it. The distant look in Ellis's eyes, the way he looked like he had slept just as shitty as Issaky had.
Worse though, Issaky hated the fear that coursed through himself, telling him this was it.
Ellis was ending things before they really got started.
They hadn't been together long, Issaky knew that. But that didn't stop the man from thinking about Ellis at night. And in the morning. And when he arrived to an empty home.
Issaky took a breath, becoming overwhelmed with his own realizations.
“I’m sorry,” Ellis said finally, too fast. “I know I already said that but I didn’t say it right and I—”
Issaky lifted a hand.
Ellis stopped mid-sentence, breath catching. Not quite startled, more attentive.
Issaky’s chest loosened at that. He liked being listened to. Not out of ego—out of safety. Control, to him, wasn’t about dominance for its own sake. It was about clarity. About removing ambiguity so everyone knew where they stood.
“Sit,” Issaky said gently, nodding to the couch.
Ellis obeyed, perching on the edge like he didn’t trust himself to take up space yet.
It was funny in a way considering what they had just done on that couch days prior. Issaky blinked away the memory and sat across from him, knees wide, forearms resting on his thighs. Open posture. Grounded. He met Ellis's eyes and held them until Ellis stopped flinching.
“Now,” Issaky said, calm and steady. “Talk to me.”
Ellis swallowed. “I wasn’t mad at you. I wasn’t even upset with you.
I just—things changed too fast, and I felt cornered, and my brain went into…
defense mode, I guess.” He exhaled, shaky.
“I’m autistic. I figure you know that by now, but I don’t think I’ve ever explained what that actually means when I’m overwhelmed. ”
Issaky didn’t interrupt. He didn’t soften his gaze either. Ellis needed anchoring, not pity.
“When I feel trapped,” Ellis continued, “or like the rules suddenly shifted and I didn’t get a chance to prepare, it’s like everything gets loud all at once.
And I say things to push people away before they can…
I don’t know. Hurt me? Or expect something I can’t give in that moment. ” His voice broke on the last word.
Issaky felt it in his chest, sharp and immediate. Not anger or disappointment. It was protective.
“So when I snapped at you,” Ellis said, eyes shining now, “it wasn’t because of you. It was because I panicked. And then I hated myself for it, and I didn’t know how to come back from that.” Silence settled between them, heavy but not hostile.
Issaky leaned back slightly, considering. He was bossy, yes. Dominant, absolutely. But kindness was not an accessory to those traits—it was the point of them. Power was only worthwhile if it made people feel safer.
“Thank you for telling me,” Issaky said at last.
Ellis blinked. “That’s it?”
“That’s not it,” Issaky said, a hint of amusement threading through his voice before he leaned forward again. “I’m not angry with you. I wasn’t then, and I’m not now. But I need you to understand something.”
Ellis nodded immediately, earnest and raw. It was irresistibly adorable.
“When you shut down,” Issaky said, voice firm but warm, “you shut me out. And I can handle fear. I can handle panic. What I don’t want is distance where there doesn’t need to be any.”
Ellis's hands stilled and he bit his lip. Issaky wanted to tug it free.
“So,” Issaky continued, “I’m asking—not ordering, asking—that when you feel that spike, that need to run or lash out, you try to tell me instead. Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s just ‘I’m overwhelmed and I don’t know why.’”
Ellis's eyes searched his face with shock and then worry. “And if I can’t?”
Issaky didn’t hesitate. “Then we figure out what helps you get there. Together.”
Something in Ellis's expression shifted then—relief loosening into something softer..
“I can try,” Ellis said quietly. “I promise I’ll try.”
Issaky reached out and curled his fingers around Ellis's wrist, grounding him, steady and deliberate. “Good,” Issaky said. “Because I want you here. Not perfect like you think everyone wants you. Just present.”
Ellis exhaled, long and shaky, like he’d been holding his breath for days. Like the last forty eight hours had been just as hellish for him as they had been for Issaky.
“I really didn't mean to hurt you.” Ellis almost whispered, looking down at his hands.
Issaky scowled and placed his hand under Ellis's chin, guiding the man's eyes to meet his, “I know. It’s okay.”
Ellis fluttered his lashes and it was then that Issaky noticed just how long and pretty they were. Ellis's eyes were back to their brighter, peridot green and it nearly made Issaky’s knees tremble.
“How can I make it up to you?” Ellis asked, biting his lip again and worrying it between his teeth.
This time Issaky pulled Ellis's lip free with his thumb. It was wet and pink. Without thinking, Issaky smeared the little bit of spit across Ellis's lip and smiled, “You don't have to do anything for me.”
Ellis leaned in–surprising Issaky–and kissed him feverishly. His lips were warm and soft as Issaky kissed him back, pulling Ellis's lower lip into his mouth and sucking gently.
Ellis moaned before pulling back and kissing down Issaky's neck, lingering on a particularly sensitive area. Ellis seemed frantic as he sucked and licked at Issaky’s throat and then moved down to his chest. Ellis's fingers fumbled with the buttons on Issaky’s shirt, and he couldn't hold back his chuckle at the man's impatience.
Ellis looked up at him with a pouted scowl and Issaky all but melted on the spot. Fucking big, pretty eyes.
Instead, Issaky popped the buttons free from his shirt and slid it off with minimal effort.
“Show off.” Ellis rolled his eyes but before Issaky could retort, Ellis resumed kissing his body.
Issaky moaned and leaned back, sinking further into the couch cushion. This couch was becoming a pretty fun place for him, if he did say so himself. He watched as Ellis kissed just above his belt.
“Can I?” Ellis asked, offering Issaky his best puppy eyes.
Something about the way he was asking permission really seemed to do it for Issaky, “Do you need help?” he asked, smirking down at the smaller man.
Ellis grunted in disapproval before making quick work of unbuckling Issaky’s belt and jeans zipper.
Issaky watched as Ellis pulled his cock from his boxers and began to stroke it in smooth, long strides. Ellis looked to be admiring Issaky’s cock, making him lick his lips.
This time, Ellis didn't ask. Issaky watched as Ellis sank his mouth onto his cock. It was so warm and wet and Issaky was almost positive he wouldn't last long.
“Fuck,” Issaky groaned, his hands instinctively reaching for Ellis's head.
It was then he realized that they had never gotten the opportunity to discuss what they were and weren't okay with, or into. Issaky quickly–but gently–pulled Ellis's head up, causing his cock to come out of Ellis's mouth, making an obscenely hot pop.