Page 35 of Margins

Elijah just sighs. “I should head home. We both need some sleep.”

Alex wants to sigh too, because while he’s sure he’s doing something wrong by holding on to those hundred unwritten messages, he’s still at least a little confused about why Elijah seems this bothered by Alex keeping them to himself for now. They haven’t even talked about what them entails, and Alex sure as hell hasn’t figured out who he is apart from Elijah or whether he’s supposed to have a name for it or how he’s supposed to explain it to anyone else. He trusts Cassidy, maybe more than anyone other than his sister, but there’s something scary about thinking she’s known too many things about him for too long and still left him to put those pieces together alone—very few of them the result of something she broke, but so many of his feelings too sharp to pick up with his bare hands. And Elena’s been forced to adapt to a few new realities lately, so no matter how much she and Elijah had hit it off over bowls of chili, it would be careless to do anything but pause and consider how this might affect her.

Plus, Elijah shouldn’t want to push Alex out of whatever proverbial closet he’s in, right? It doesn’t make sense when it’s unlikely he would’ve demanded that Peter and Edgar do anything at all.

But it’s the middle of the night, and Elijah should head home, and they both do need sleep, so Alex follows him to the door and kisses him goodbye, the click of the lock behind Elijah quiet and somehow still loud enough to echo until dawn.

Until the morning fog clears and reveals nothing.

And maybe he can still hear it all day Saturday and then Sunday, too, Alex glad he’d already planned to take Cassidy’s cue and stay at the curb when he drops Elena off, because he’s fairly certain he hasn’t stopped flinching at the sound and doesn’t feel like answering questions about his own telltale heart.

Alex doesn’t hear from Elijah again until Monday afternoon, while he’s at the office.

In the neighborhood today. can I take you out to dinner?

And that’s—it’s a date. He’s being asked out on an official date. Alex knows it instinctively, and his entire body responds in conflicting ways, his stomach turning while his skin warms, and his breath catching while his fingers ache, and he wants and fears all of it at once. It’s a date and a test of some kind, and while Alex is certain it wouldn’t include plans to make out over their plates—while there would be no grand announcement sung like an all too happy birthday song—he feels so damn transparent already, and he doesn’t know if he’s ready for an audience of strangers any more than he’s prepared for a conversation with the people he loves.

There’s no major risk of being hurt by anyone around them, at most a single disapproving glance among dozens of other diners who won’t care at all, but Alex thinks it would leave him bleeding anyway.

Maybe they’d get a smile of support, but Alex thinks that could cut him even deeper.

So, after frustrating Elijah on his own damn couch, Alex still can’t pretend to be ready for anything more, but he’s too far gone on Elijah to settle for nothing at all.

Can you come here instead? A quiet dinner at home would be nice

Sure

That single word carries the same tone as when Elijah had said goodbye Friday night—or early Saturday morning—and Alex knows it’s his fault. That he’s the one who could make it better. But he shakes his head and taps out a response.

Great see you then

He finishes up with everything that needs to be done at work before he can go home, then he ducks out and stops at the store on his way to pick up a bottle of wine and some fresh bread. He’ll make pasta and a salad and turn on some music and make this as romantic as it can be when Elijah will probably be disappointed when he first arrives, dating a coward who hasn't learned how to do anything but apologize with food and a kiss.

Dating? Is that even what they’re doing here? Can they be dating if Alex won’t let them go on a date? Is he just supposed to tell Cass and Elena that he’s found someone he keeps hidden at home?

Again, is he really supposed to tell them anything when he’s only known Elijah for a little over a month?

When there’s a knock at the door, Alex rinses his hands, throws a dish towel over his shoulder, and hurries to let Elijah in.

“Hey,” he says, steadier than he feels when he pulls Elijah close enough to kiss.

“Hey to you, too,” Elijah smiles against him. “It smells incredible in here.”

The truth is, Elijah smells incredible too, probably having just showered, his curls still damp and his skin warm and reminding Alex of the fall. He looks casual and not, a button up left open over a tight shirt and snug jeans, probably toning down his appearance once he knew they’d be staying in, though Alex can’t dodge the thought that he’d brought something with him to change into that afternoon, or whenever he was “in the neighborhood.”

“You were at your grandpa’s house?” Alex asks as they make their way into the kitchen, Elijah snooping at everything Alex has been preparing.

“Yeah, I kinda took a break after the garage sales, but I’ve gotta finish clearing everything out of there and get a few things fixed up before we’re ready to put it on the market after the holidays.”

“Who actually got the title to the house after he died?”

“The three grandkids—my sister, my brother, and me,” Elijah answers, watching as Alex tastes the sauce before he moves over to slice the bread. “My mom was an only child, so it’s just us.”

“And you said your brother lived there with his family?”

“Just for a while, yeah. It was good timing because he was looking for a new job and they didn’t really want to renew the lease on the place they had. Probably helped with some of the cleaning out, actually, because he and his wife boxed a lot of stuff and moved it to the garage and den just to get it out of their way. Gave me a head start, at least.”

“But that’s it? You’re really not gonna try to keep it?” Alex pushes, handing over the bottle of wine and nodding toward the glasses so Elijah can pour.

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