Chapter Text
Dennis finished the job just as the sun dipped low enough to stretch shadows across the pavement.
It had been simple work - unloading boxes, sweeping, fixing a loose hinge on a back door. Cash in hand, a nod of thanks, nothing permanent. Still, it was enough to get him through the day, enough to keep his body moving even when his thoughts felt heavier than the pack on his shoulders.
He started walking back toward the alley out of habit.
Then he stopped.
The bookstore sign was lit.
Dennis stared at it longer than he meant to. He told himself he was just curious. That he wanted to see if it was open. That maybe he could stand in the warmth for a few minutes before night fell.
The bell chimed when he stepped inside.
“Hey,” a familiar voice said.
Dennis looked up.
Robby stood behind the counter, glasses on, sleeves rolled up, hair doing that same unruly thing it had done yesterday. He smiled when he saw Dennis, something like relief flickering across his face before he could hide it.
“Hi,” Dennis said, quieter than he meant to.
Robby reached down and pulled something from beneath the counter. He held it out - the book he was reading yesterday.
“Thought you might wanna finish this.”
Dennis’s breath caught.
“Oh,” he said, smiling before he could stop himself. “Yeah. I-I would. Thank you.”
“Same spot?” Robby asked, already knowing the answer.
Dennis nodded and made his way toward the back of the shop, to the same stretch of floor between the poetry shelf and the radiator where he’d sat the night before. He hesitated, glancing at the small table closest to him.
For a second, he considered it.
Then he decided against it.
He set his backpack down carefully on the floor, sitting cross-legged, and opened the book like it might disappear if he waited too long.
From where he was, he could still see the front counter.
He told himself not to look.
He looked anyway.
Robby moved easily through the space, checking a shelf here, jotting something down there, adjusting a plant that didn’t really need adjusting. Dennis watched in stolen glances, eyes dropping back to the page whenever Robby shifted too close to his line of sight.
The words pulled him in again, but this time he stayed aware of the clock. He checked the sign on the door once - closing time neatly printed beneath the hours. He didn’t want to overstay. Not today.
He finished the book just before the lights dimmed slightly.
Dennis closed it slowly, fingers lingering on the cover, then stood. He hesitated at the edge of the aisle, the familiar pull of leaving before he was asked to.
He made it halfway to the counter before his stomach betrayed him.
The sound was loud in the quiet shop.
Dennis froze, mortified.
Robby looked up, startled for half a second - then laughed. Not in an unkind way though.
“Hungry?” he asked.
Dennis flushed. “I’m fine. Sorry. That was-”
“You don’t have to apologize for being human,” Robby said, already moving around the counter. “Come on.”
“I-I really shouldn’t,” Dennis said quickly. “It’s okay, really.”
Robby stopped in front of him, close enough that Dennis could smell tea and something clean and comforting. He reached out, just briefly, his hand resting lightly on Dennis’s shoulder - not pushing, just guiding.
“I insist.”
Dennis didn’t know how to say no to that.
Robby led him toward a small table near the side of the shop, away from the shelves but still bathed in warm light. He disappeared into a back room and returned with two simple sandwiches wrapped in paper and a kettle already steaming.
Dennis sat stiffly, hands in his lap, watching as Robby set one sandwich in front of him and poured tea into mismatched mugs.
“You don’t have to-” Dennis started again.
“Eat,” Robby said gently, taking a seat across from him.
Dennis hesitated for exactly three seconds before hunger won.
He tried to be polite. He really did. But the first bite cracked something open, and before he could stop himself, he was devouring the sandwich like it might be taken away.
Robby watched, amused.
“You must’ve been starving, kid.”
Dennis froze mid-bite, swallowing hard. “Sorry.”
Robby shook his head, already taking a bite of his own sandwich. “Don’t be. Just means you needed it.”
They ate in comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t demand anything. Dennis slowed eventually, sipping the tea, warmth spreading through him in layers -hands, chest, something deeper.
And for the first time in days, he wasn’t cold.
The tea had gone lukewarm by the time Dennis realized he’d stopped shaking.
He wrapped his hands around the mug anyway, more for the comfort than the heat. Robby had finished his sandwich and was leaning back slightly in his chair, watching Dennis in that quiet, observant way that made him feel seen without being pinned down.
“So,” Robby said after a moment, casual, “I never caught your name.”
Dennis’s stomach tightened, not from hunger this time.
“Oh. Uh.” He hesitated, then smiled, small and polite. “Dennis.”
Robby nodded, like he was committing it to memory. “Dennis,” he repeated. “I’m Robby.”
Dennis tilted his head slightly. The name suited him.
“Yeah,” Dennis said quietly. “That fits.”
Robby laughed softly. “Does it?”
Dennis nodded, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “It does.”
He repeated it once in his head.
Robby.
“So,” Robby said, “you new around here?”
Dennis’s fingers tightened around the ceramic.
“Yeah,” he said. Which was true. Mostly. “Just moved in.”
“Recently?”
Dennis nodded. “Couple weeks.”
That was also true. He just didn’t add and I haven’t had a real place to sleep since.
Robby tilted his head slightly. “You got work lined up?”
Dennis swallowed. “I’m… figuring things out.”
Robby hummed, noncommittal, but his eyes lingered. “City’s not kind to people who are figuring things out.”
Dennis smiled again, practiced this time. “I’ve noticed.”
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was thoughtful. Robby’s gaze dropped briefly to Dennis’s backpack, still sitting by the chair leg, scuffed and overstuffed. Then to Dennis’s hands - rough, knuckles nicked, nails bitten short.
He didn’t say anything.
Which somehow made it worse.
“You like to read,” Robby said instead.
Dennis brightened, grateful for the change. “Yeah. Always have.”
“Farm kid?” Robby asked, not accusing. Curious.
Dennis blinked. “How’d you-”
“Just a guess,” Robby said with a faint smile. “You’ve just got that open field look about you”.
Dennis laughed under his breath. “I’m from Nebraska,” he admitted. “Big farm. Lots of animals. Lots of space.”
“And you came here for…?” Robby prompted gently.
Dennis stared into his tea. He could tell the truth. Or part of it. Or enough of it to sound like something people said without inviting pity.
“A change,” he said finally. “A new start.”
Robby nodded slowly. “Those are hard.”
Dennis looked up, surprised.
“But they’re worth it,” Robby added, softer.
Dennis held his gaze for a second too long, warmth blooming low in his chest again, that same feeling from the night before. He looked away first.
They sat like that until the clock behind the counter ticked too loudly to ignore.
“I should probably head out,” Dennis said reluctantly, standing. He gathered his things, slinging the backpack over one shoulder.
Robby stood too. “You’re welcome back anytime.”
Dennis smiled, genuine this time. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Robby said. “You’ve got good taste in books.”
Dennis hesitated, fingers tightening around the strap of his backpack. “Thanks. For… everything, Robby.”
Robby blinked, something warm flickering across his face before he could stop it.
“Anytime,” he said, quietly.
He watched Dennis walk to the door, the bell chiming softly as it closed behind him.
Only after Dennis was gone did Robby exhale.
He glanced at the chair Dennis had been sitting in, the empty mug, the crumbs brushed carefully to the side of the plate. Then his eyes drifted to the backpack, the way Dennis had kept it close the entire time.
Robby frowned, not with suspicion.
With concern.
Dennis stepped back out into the night with the bell’s echo still following him.
The air was cooler now, the streetlights casting long, stretched shadows across the pavement. He adjusted the strap of his backpack on his shoulder and started walking, feet automatically taking him toward the alley he knew so well.
But tonight, it didn’t feel quite the same.
Robby’s words kept looping in his head, gentle and steady.
But they’re worth it.
Dennis smiled to himself, small and private, like the feeling might spook if he let it show too much. He hadn’t realized how starved he’d been for something like that. Not the food, though his stomach was pleasantly warm now, but the way Robby had looked at him. Like Dennis was allowed to be in his space. Like staying wasn’t an inconvenience.
The city still loomed around him, loud and unforgiving, but it didn’t feel as sharp as it had this morning.
Dennis let out a soft breath, the sound almost a laugh.
Maybe he had come here for a reason.
The alley came into view, familiar brick and shadow, but when Dennis leaned his back against the wall and slid down, it didn’t feel like the end of the day anymore. Just a pause.
He tucked his backpack close and stared up at the sliver of sky visible between buildings, stars hidden by city light. His chest felt warm again, that same steady glow settling in.
Maybe, he thought, eyes drifting closed, I’ll find something here for me.
And for the first time since he’d arrived, the thought didn’t feel foolish.
It felt possible.
Robby locked the front door and tested the handle twice out of habit.
The shop settled around him as the lights dimmed, shelves slipping back into shadow, the plants catching just enough glow to look alive in the dark. He stood there for a moment longer than necessary, keys still in his hand, eyes drifting to the chair at the back of the store.
Empty now.
He shook his head softly and turned toward the narrow staircase tucked behind the counter. The steps creaked as he climbed, familiar and comforting. He’d lived above the shop for years - long enough that the separation between work and home felt more symbolic than real.
The apartment door opened to a soft mrrp.
“Hey,” Robby said automatically, slipping inside and toeing off his shoes. “I know, I’m late.”
The cat wound herself around his ankles like she’d been waiting all evening just to scold him. She was old, round in the middle, with one ear permanently bent from a fight she could never tell him about. Robby bent down and scooped her up, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“Don’t give me that look,” he murmured. “You’ve been fed.”
She purred anyway, loud and insistent.
Robby carried her into the small kitchen and set her down, watching as she hopped onto the counter like she owned the place. He poured himself a glass of water, leaned back against the counter, and stared out the window that overlooked the street below.
The bookstore sign was still glowing.
He thought about Dennis, the way he’d eaten like he hadn’t had a real meal in days. The backpack. The careful apologies. The sad look on his face mixed in with those shadows beneath his eyes.
Robby frowned, scratching absently behind the cat’s ears when she hopped back into his arms.
“Something’s off,” he murmured, more to himself than her.
She flicked her tail and purred louder, unimpressed.
Robby exhaled slowly. He wasn’t wrong often. But he also knew better than to pry. Some people needed time. Some people needed a place they could come back to without being questioned.
His gaze drifted down the street again, toward the alley just out of sight.
“Worth it,” he repeated quietly, testing the words.
The cat yawned, wide and dramatic, then settled against his chest like she agreed.
Robby turned off the kitchen light and headed toward the bedroom, carrying that small, unexpected feeling with him - the sense that today had shifted something.
He didn’t know what yet.
But he had a feeling he’d see Dennis again