Chapter Seventeen
Ellis lingered near the front counter of the record store, letting his fingers trace the grooves of a freshly-arrived vinyl, though his mind wasn’t entirely on the music.
His thoughts kept drifting back to last week, to the night at Ruston Way.
That date had been…perfect. The harbor lights had reflected off the water like molten gold, and the quiet hum of boats in the distance had mixed with the low buzz of conversation that he and Issaky kept going into in the early morning.
Ellis had felt a kind of happiness he wasn’t sure he’d allowed himself in years.
Even now, thinking of it, his chest ached with warmth and a strange, tender certainty.
A small smile tugged at his lips, and his gaze drifted toward the back of the store.
Jace was kneeling carefully in the rock section, sliding vinyls into their proper place.
He’d stayed on part-time after stepping in while Ellis had been absent for a few difficult weeks.
At first, Ellis hadn’t been sure what to expect, but he found himself optimistic.
Jace was calm, competent, easy to talk to, and, without the pressure of a full-time role, he seemed like someone who could genuinely be a friend.
It was comforting, having someone around who understood the rhythm of the store without needing constant direction, someone who could take care of things while Ellis and Issaky navigated their own personal chaos.
The morning sunlight slanted through the front windows, painting golden lines across the worn wood floor.
There was a smell to the store he could never shake–a mixture of cedar, old paper, and vinyl warmed by sunlight.
It was the smell of home, of history, of memory stitched into the air.
Clyde had always said the store had a soul, and now, standing there, Ellis could feel it quietly insisting he belonged.
Issaky was behind the counter, moving boxes of records with careful attention.
When he caught Ellis's eye, he offered a small smile, the kind that seemed to both soothe and steady. Today felt different. The tension in Issaky’s shoulders wasn’t the usual pre-shift busyness–it was anticipation.
Ellis could sense it, though he tried to bury it beneath the comforting familiarity of browsing through the new arrivals.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Issaky said, voice low, threading through the soft hum of the record player in the background. “Sit down for a minute?” He gestured toward the office chair in the back corner, which had been moved into the open for this moment.
Ellis hesitated, but nodded, following Issaky through the narrow aisles past stacks of jazz, punk, and experimental records.
Every corner seemed to hold a memory–Clyde at the counter with his ever-present coffee cup, Ellis and Clyde debating whether to alphabetize by last name or band, afternoons spent dusting shelves that always seemed to need it again the next day.
It was almost as if the walls themselves remembered him.
Issaky perched on the edge of the counter across from him, hands folded, gaze steady but full of a weight Ellis hadn’t seen before.
“Ellis… I know the past few months have been… complicated. And I know it’s been hard for you. But I also know how much this store means to you. It’s been part of your life for years, and… I think it’s time you had a say in its future.”
Ellis blinked. A tight coil of nerves twisted in his stomach. “My say?” His voice was quieter than he intended. “I mean… I’ve always… been part of it, but it’s Clyde’s store.”
Issaky nodded slowly. “Yeah. And it always will be. But before he… you know, passed, he made provisions. I went through the will after everything got settled. He wanted you involved. Officially. Not just someone who comes in, keeps things running when I’m busy, or lives in the shadow of the store. He wanted you to co-own it with me.”
The words hit him gently, but with undeniable weight.
Ellis felt something shift inside–part thrill, part fear.
Clyde’s handwriting, etched into legal documents, affirmed in ink what Ellis had always sensed in the quiet corners of the store: that he belonged here, that his presence mattered.
It wasn’t just a store. It was a part of his life, of his history, and now, potentially, part of his future.
“I… I don’t know what to say,” Ellis whispered. His hands shook slightly in his lap. “I mean, I’ve grown up here. This place… it’s always been more than just a store. It’s… it’s part of him, part of me. I don’t know if I can even… I don’t know if I deserve that.”
Issaky leaned forward, eyes soft but insistent. “You do. You really do. And I want you to. I can’t imagine doing this without you. I don’t just mean the day-to-day–I mean planning, decisions, everything. I want you to help me carry it forward.”
Ellis stared at the counter’s edge, trying to steady the flood of emotions.
Ownership. Responsibility. Trust. Thinking of Clyde–how he had taught him to sort records, joked about rearranging them just to drive Ellis crazy–Ellis realized that maybe, just maybe, he could honor Clyde’s legacy by stepping fully into this role.
“I… yes,” he said finally, voice firming though his heart raced. “I’ll do it. I want to.”
Relief softened Issaky’s expression, and a quiet smile spread across his face. The store felt lighter somehow, as if admitting this truth had shifted its weight from a quiet pressure to something shared, something they could carry together.
Issaky wasn’t done. He leaned forward slightly. “There’s… one more thing,” he said, careful, almost tentative. “It’s not part of the store’s legal stuff, but it’s personal. And I hope it’s not too much. I want you to move in with me.”
Ellis's chest hitched. The words were a gust of wind–unexpected, dizzying. He looked at Issaky, trying to read the expression there: patient, steady, hopeful. The corners of Issaky’s mouth lifted, but his eyes held something stronger, insistence wrapped in care.
“I… I mean… we… we spend most nights together anyway,” Issaky continued, anticipating Ellis's hesitation. “You’re already there most days, or I’m over at your apartment.
And… your mom–she’s worse now, almost never home.
I hate the idea of you riding the light rail into that part of town late at night by yourself.
I just… I want you safe. And I want you with me. ”
Ellis swallowed hard. Change terrified him.
Moving in meant vulnerability, trust, letting someone else into the private parts of his life in ways he hadn’t allowed before.
He hadn't had the opportunity to introduce Issaky to his mom, and not for lack of trying either.
The woman was never home, and when she was, she was passed out or angry.
He didn't want to be around that anymore.
He thought about the store, about Issaky, about the rhythms they had already established. And he thought about Clyde. If the man who had given him so much, who trusted him with the store, saw value in him… maybe he could find courage too.
“I… I don’t know if I’m ready,” Ellis admitted, voice small. “Change… it scares me.”
Issaky’s expression softened, but he didn’t retreat. “I get that. And I’m not asking you to decide right this second. I just…want you to think about it. Know that…wherever you choose, I’m not going anywhere. I just don’t want you to be alone when you don’t have to be.”
Ellis nodded slowly. The words settled like stones in his palm. Alone. Not alone. Safety. Trust. Home. The store was home, but…Isasaky was home too. . .Maybe, just maybe, the two could merge.
“Okay,” he whispered finally. “I’ll…I’ll move in.”
Relief washed over Issaky, and he reached across the counter, tentatively taking Ellis's hand. Simple, grounding. His fingers curled around Issaky’s, and he realized how ready he was to take this step. Fear lingered, but beneath it, certainty stirred.
“We’ll figure it out,” Issaky said softly. “Together. And the store…We’ll carry it forward together.”
Ellis let himself smile, full and unguarded, chest warm.
Clyde’s legacy no longer felt like a weight; it felt like a hand offered, steady, ready to help him navigate the next chapter.
For the first time in a long while, Ellis allowed himself to hope that home wasn’t just a place, but a life shared, and he was ready.
They sat in silence, the store wrapping around them like a familiar blanket.
Ellis's gaze drifted over stacks, over little details Clyde had loved–the worn corners, faded posters, carefully cataloged records that always seemed impossible to keep in order.
It was all part of him, part of his life, now part of a future he could help shape.
“Co-owners,” Ellis said finally, testing the words. “Sounds…right.”
Issaky laughed softly, relief and joy blending in his tone. “Co-owners,” he echoed. “And housemates.”
Ellis's stomach fluttered at the casual way Issaky said it, and he felt the first pulse of excitement he’d had in weeks.
Fear lingered, yes–but it was tempered by something enduring.
He had the store, he had Issaky, and he had a choice.
And for the first time in a long while, Ellis felt he could take it.
He breathed in, the sunlight, the smell of vinyl, the certainty of a life being built alongside someone who saw him. Fear, uncertainty, grief–they were still there, but no longer obstacles. Pieces of a life unfolding, and he was ready.
And with a tentative squeeze of Issaky’s hand, Ellis let himself imagine mornings cataloging records side by side, evenings in the apartment they’d make together, laughter echoing down the aisles of the store. Home. Legacy. Life. All of it waiting, and he was finally ready to step into it.