The diner glowed with a comforting, anachronistic warmth on the edge of the city. Chrome gleamed under soft neon lights, and the scent of frying onions and sweet coffee hung heavy in the air. David had chosen it because it felt… timeless. A place where worries seemed to quiet, replaced by the clatter of plates and the murmur of easy conversation. He’d arrived a few minutes early, as was his habit, smoothing the napkin on the table and trying to quell the flutter in his chest. Each meeting with Robert felt less like a tentative step and more like a gentle, irreversible slide into something wonderful.

Robert arrived promptly, pushing open the glass door and letting a gust of cool evening air follow him in. David’s eyes met his, and a genuine smile touched Robert’s lips, softer than the last, less guarded. It sent a surprising jolt of warmth through David.

- "Right on time," David said, gesturing to the booth across from him.

Robert slid in, shrugging off his jacket. "Didn't want to keep you waiting." He glanced around the diner, his gaze lingering on the worn vinyl seats and the jukebox in the corner, a hint of something unreadable in his expression.

They ordered; David, his usual bacon and eggs, and Robert, to David’s quiet observation, a simple breakfast plate: scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, and a side of rye toast. As they ate, the conversation flowed easily. They talked about books, Robert admitting he’d once tried to read a classic David recommended but found himself "lost in all the big words." David laughed. He talked about a particularly challenging student, and Robert listened intently, offering surprisingly insightful observations about patience and reading people.

- "You're good with kids," David observed, watching Robert push a forkful of bacon into his mouth. "You'd make a good father."

Robert's hand paused, halfway to his mouth. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, and his eyes, which had been warm moments before, became distant, shadowed. "I wasn't," he murmured, the words barely audible over the diner's hum. "Not then."

David felt a pang of sympathy, a fresh ache in his chest. He remembered Robert's quiet confession in the park, the 'line' he'd crossed, the family he’d lost. That wound was clear, the regret of a past self, still ran deep. "Well," David said softly, reaching across the table to lightly touch Robert's wrist, just above that faint scar, "people change. And you… You've certainly changed for the better."

Robert met his gaze, and David saw a flash of something profound in his eyes; gratitude, vulnerability, perhaps even a flicker of pain from the implied past. Robert didn't pull away this time. Instead, he just held David's gaze, the unspoken understanding passing between them, a silent acknowledgment of the weight of Robert's words and David's acceptance.

The rest of the meal was quieter, but the silence felt rich, imbued with the intimacy of shared confessions. As the waitress cleared their plates, David felt a growing warmth, a hopeful ache in his chest. He didn't want the night to end.

- "It's getting late," Robert said, his voice soft, almost hesitant, breaking the comfortable quiet.

David looked at him, feeling the familiar pull. He took a deep breath, emboldened by the warmth that had grown between them over these past weeks. "You don't have to go home, you know," he said, his voice a quiet invitation, his heart thrumming. "You could… stay at my place. It's just... I'd like your company."

Robert's eyes widened, a subtle surprise in their depths. David saw him hesitate, a quick, almost imperceptible tension in his shoulders, a slight clenching of his hands under the table. It was the same familiar caution David had seen before, the wall that still lingered. But then, as David held his gaze, he saw it slowly, almost reluctantly, melt away. A gentle, tired smile touched Robert’s lips.

"I... I think I'd like that very much, David," Robert murmured, his voice softer than David had ever heard it.

A wave of pure relief, mixed with a nervous excitement, washed over David. He felt a giddy lightness he hadn't experienced in years. This was it. Another step, deeper into the unknown, but with Robert by his side, it felt like the right one.