ᵐʳ. ⁿᵒ ᵒⁿᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵖᵃʳᵗⁱᶜᵘˡᵃʳ.

the fucking static. who likes white noise? nobody fucking likes white noise. rain noises? sure. this? not the same thing. with tall stature, he stood to press the radio off, in hopes the person wouldn’t care. but then again, even if they did, nate didn’t give much of a fuck. and typically, he wouldn’t even give some drug addict the time of day unless he, too, was fucked out of his mind. but unfortunately, he wasn’t. “what the fuck are you on about?”

the sudden silence doesn’t go unnoticed. todd must’ve missed the part where the other turns off the radio, too busy lazily staring into the night sky to have any control, or saying, in whatever’s going on around them. lips part slightly, eyes focusing on nothing in particular as he... listens, awaits something that never happens. “it’s gone.” he states. “you must’ve missed it. a voice— “ short pause. “have you recently been in contact with a.. parallel realm of some sort?” 

THE  LACK  OF  A  RESPONSE  MADE  RACHEL  SEMI  -  CURIOUS  ,  and  so  they  quirked  up  an  eyebrow  .  (  then  again  ———  this  was  todd  ,  after  all  ,  and  so  perhaps  they  needn’t  be  that  curious  .  )    ❝  were  you  here  all  night  just  for  that  ??  ❞  they  asked  ,  eyes  looking  towards  the  book  and  nodding  their  head  towards  the  general  direction  of  said  object  ,  somewhat  amused  as  the  other  struggled  to  remember  the  title  .  ❝  arthur  miller  ,  ❞  they  remarked  ,  almost  a  reply  but  more  of  a  result  of  them  trying  to  remember  which  author  wrote  said  work  .  ❝  always  a  good  choice  ,  ❞  they  said  rather  generously  ———  though  ,  to  be  honest  ,  plays  never  had  been  their  thing  .  ❝  if  you  end  up  liking  it  ,  ❞  they  continued  ,  ❝  do  remind  me  to  check  it  out  ,  will  you  ??  ❞  unlike  most  people  who  asked  for  recommendations  ,  rachel  truly  ended  up  following  through  with  most  of  them  ,  mostly  because  they  were  too  lazy  to  think  up  of  what  to  read  next  on  their  own  .  ❝  &&  it’s  lit  lads  ,  duh  ,  ❞  they  said  ,  as  if  the  remark  brooked  no  complaint  or  opposition  .  an  amused  smile  decorated  their  face  .  ❝  it’s  a  heckin’  good  name  ,  if  i  do  say  so  myself  .  ❞  as  if  the  two  of  them  were  privy  to  a  joke  only  they  could  understand  ———  &&  as  far  as  rachel  was  concerned  ,  they  kind  of  were  .

"i — “ a pause. the question seems to give him something to think about. brows furrow slightly, he appears confused, wondering if him, being here, has ever had a deeper meaning to it. eye twitches, just once, and then he’s back to neutral. “we could say that, yeah.” a small smile followed by a nod of the head. “the home feels lonely around dinner hours. figured i'd go for a stroll— ended up like this.” seconds of silence. todd’s eyes are rested on them. “and yourself?” the tone is warm, surprisingly sincere for someone whose brain has been absolutely devoured by various kinds of substances in just a couple of hours. “oh, no need. i got this one in the bag.” there’s a good moment between his words and actions. todd processes what it is that he wants to do, then proceeds to get to his feet. without an explanation, he heads over to where he had earlier placed his briefcase bag, opens it and pulls out another copy of the exact same book. he offers it to rachel, in no way acknowledging the dumb pun he had just made. “this one’s for you, my darling luv. a gift from the commies, disguised.” 

“Space man. Floating back down to earth as we speak. Space man to ground control.” Punctuated with a soft laugh, ringing out into the night air. He’s far too likely to indulge the other in the quiet chats, he realizes. Really was there anything wrong with wanting to just stay amongst the stars and the man before him, just exist for a bit longer in the soft edged calm he associated with their early morning hazes. It was that thought that brought back the clarity of it, the realization that it actually had been some time since they’d done just this. Far too many nights away. Greyson didn’t care much for how it ached something hollow within his chest. Life was far too transient. So he let his eyes light up once more, returning focus to the other and instinctively leaning in a bit to the welcomed touch to his shirt. “Thank you, gorgeous.” Grey preening easily at the compliment. The print reminded him of a Madonna video he’d loved as a child. Stained glass windows, synth beats. The question was one he shrugged away with ease, catching Todd’s fingers to play with them idly for a beat. “ – I should, I guess. Champagne on the brain though, i’m a bit.. hazy. Maybe i’ll sleep right here.” 

todd listens to the boy speak, deeply invested. whether it’s the words, or just the sound of the other’s voice, he’s not sure. what matters is how incredibly fucking drawn he is to greyson. the touch brings a faint smile to his lips, a sense of comfort, even if it’s not something he can pinpoint. hand eventually reaches for the other’s. he’s gentle, doesn’t wanna come off as too demanding when he lazily pulls the boy closer. “champagne, hm?” their fingers intertwined. “t’s said to make one woozy.” he sympathizes, voice never going above a certain volume. “please,” a small laugh at the idea. “be my guest. i do believe this bed was constructed for two entire beings.” the statement is supported with a sincere smile and small nod of the head. “we’ve got this groovy bedsheet, as well.” as in, the blanket. “for when you want to see the stars and not freeze to death.” he has now subtly reached for the boy’s other hand. double hand-holding, it doesn’t get better than that. “but, we can also get a cab.” at this point, he’s mostly just rambling, brainstorming. 

Alyosha excused himself to smoke, going outside to the entrance of the Factory despite the pouring rain sprinkling him whenever the wind picked up and the on-coming thunderstorm almost palpable in the air. Some called him over-the-top to never smoke anywhere near unfamiliar people, he’d just call it common decency. It was also why he’d kept his distance to the inflow of people going into the Factory (likely and hopefully just there to wait out the weather in a public space to fuck off and never return after); that was to the extent that he could. “I would stay away but I also really don’t wanna stand in the fucking rain.”, he declared, trying to bridge what he’d felt to be an awkward silence, standing and staying as only two of them outside.

he’s leaning against the wall, a coat (that doesn’t belong to him) draped around his shoulders, one hand shoved into the pocket of his mom jeans, and a cigarette, rested behind the left ear. eyes rest on the other, but he doesn’t say a word. seems spaced out. caught staring. when spoken to, he snaps out of it. to some degree, at least. “what? no, absolutely fucking not. i need you to..” a vague gesture towards the very outside, the place where no one necessarily wants to be in this exact moment. “stand over there, right about now. please, sir, i insist. secondhand smoking makes me very nervous.” 

— ONE OF ROWENA’S FAVORITE THINGS ABOUT THE FACTORY was surprisingly the kitchen. she had grown up in one and if there was one thing she had brought to the factory was her passion for food, especially anything that was sweet. she had the habit of taking a break from her music and just cooking there, eventually leaving always a pie in the fridge for anyone who wanted a piece or even a cake if it was anyone’s birthday, it was her way to wind down and relax. that day she had decided to tackle vegan cranberry white chocolate cookies and after a couple of hours they were already nicely placed on a tray and the kitchen was once again clean. she sat down in one of the island benches and tried one to check if they were good before turning to the closest person she could find “ do you want one ? ” ro offered with a soft smile.

todd has been hanging around the kitchen, on-and-off, for the past few hours. whenever he gets a break, really. the few minutes he gets before he has to be back in the greenhouse, ready to model some more, he uses to supply himself with occasional beverages from the fridge. this time, he’s back for a carton of oat milk, shirtless and stained, paint covering most of his shoulders. a small smile to greet her, though they’ve seen each other a couple of times already.  lips part slightly, but her voice reaches him before any words can escape. gaze moves from the girl to the tray before her. “sure.” a pause. “actually, can i do it later? i’m kind of—” one hand is raised. he reveals a dirty palm, the paint still fresh. the other holds onto a box of oatly, but is in no way in a better condition. “but, they look fantastic.” todd tells her, and it’s genuine. “were you cooking for the household, again?” 

MAYBE  ,  TODD  SAYS  ,  BUT  THE  OTHER  MAKES  NO  MOVE  to  rectify  the  situation  ,  so  rachel  decided  they’ll  be  the  proactive  one  and  they  move  closer  ,  bending  over  and  doing  the  very  technologically  difficult  process  of  turning  the  radio  on  and  off  .  (  rachel  ,  it  must  be  said  ,  was  sometimes  ironic  ———  they  felt  like  it  was  the  only  way  to  exist  in  this  all  -  too  great  city  of  dreams  .  )  ❝  there  ,  ❞  they  said  for  a  moment  ,  but  no  such  luck  …  the  radio  still  played  static  ,  and  this  caused  them  to  frown  a  bit  in  confusion  ,  so  much  that  they  almost  missed  the  question  todd  lopped  at  them  .    ❝  the  time  ??  ❞  they  echoed  ,  the  question  throwing  them  off  for  a  bit  .  they  look  to  their  wrist  ,  before  realising  they’ve  given  up  on  wristwatches  long  ago  ———  they  were  slow  in  reading  analog  clocks  ,  which  barred  most  traditional  watches  ,  and  they  were  still  trying  to  be  vaguely  anti  -  mainstream  by  refusing  to  wear  an  apple  watch  or  any  other  kind  of  smartwatch  ———  so  they  took  out  their  phone  ,  the  light  still  turned  up  on  the  highest  setting  and  blinding  them  for  a  second  or  two  until  they  turned  it  down  to  a  manageable  level  .  ❝  it’s  like  4:30  ,  pal  ,  ❞  they  said  .  ❝  4:27  ,  if  you  wanna  be  exact  .  ❞  they  locked  their  phone  ,  but  they  didn’t  quite  put  it  away  ,  instead  choosing  to  fiddle  with  it  by  spinning  it  ’round  with  deft  and  agile  fingers  .  (  a  dangerous  habit  they  didn’t  even  know  where  they  picked  up  .  )  rachel  quirked  up  an  eyebrow  ,  slightly  leaning  forward  both  to  read  the  title  for  themself  ,  before  seemingly  pulling  back  and  changing  their  mind  ,  deciding  to  ask  directly  instead  ,  ❝  what’s  the  title  of  the  book  ??  ❞

lips part, and for a second it’s as if he wants to say something. however, no sound manages to come out, nothing but a faint hum— almost nonexistent. if you couldn’t hear it, did it really happen? todd focuses on the buzzing in his ears, the exhausted state his body seems to be in and.. numbers. 4:30. brows furrow slightly, but aside from that, there’s no particular reaction. in fact, he’s not sure how to feel about it, so.. he just doesn’t. there’s no conclusion. todd crosses his legs, leans forward. eyes focus on the phone in their hand. for a second, he’s mesmerized. but then rachel speaks up and he’s luckily pulled out of this ridiculous almost-trance. “sorry? oh.. all my friends?” a guess, before he actually reads the cover. few seconds for him to realize that the words that escaped his mouth don’t quite match what’s on the paper. “no, fuck.” a short laugh. “all my sons. huh.. almost.” a pause. ”it’s alright, so far. ‘m not.. crazy ‘bout it, but.. we’ll see, i guess.” a nod of the head, as he puts the book aside. “i like the guy’s.. other work. though. death of a salesman was a good one. yeah, i— by the end, i really found myself enjoying it, actually.” he looks over at them, offers a sympathetic smile. “i.. could probably get you a copy. wanna be book buddies?” it’s lighthearted. “literature lads?” 

          she spent the whole day watching old film—completely enamored by the lack of color, the graininess, and the expresiveness of the actors. she thought it to be charming. hours pass by, and she realizes how alone she feels, and not in the physical sense. so she excuses herself, and seeks comfort elsewhere. she remembers the rooftop, where she’d last seen todd, and off she goes there.  she has only known todd for four months—a friend of greyson’s—but he had quickly become a precious person to her. she giggles at his greeting, deciding to just play along. ❝ dobryy vecher,  ❞ she returns, jumping into the daybed and nearly hitting todd. she watches him watch her, a slight smile on her face. she instantly feels comforted by the aura he emanates. ❝ i vould gladly talk with zhem !  ❞ she exclaims, unfazed. she had been living with him long enough to be familiar with his quirks. besides, she finds the device to be thrilling.

"oh— ” he watched her approach, yet, for some reason, it’s as if he didn’t expect she’d actually sit down with him. he seems almost confused for the split of a second, but is quick to push himself into a more sitting-sort of position, shuffling bit to the side, making space for the girl. curious eyes follow her movements, a lazy, but sincere smile, appearing on his pale face. “be my guest, the world’s all yours.” words of encouragement. he leans back, hands beginning to tug at the blanket. he carefully places half the material over her shoulders, making sure to protect her from the slight chilliness of the night. “what are you gonna say?” tone genuine, calm. he reaches for the nearby tobacco, his kit, brings it into his lap. fingers begin slowly working on the cigarette. he picks out a filter, places it between his lips while straightening out a piece of rolling paper. he makes sure to occasionally glance over at her, clearly invested in whatever could be on her mind. “what would you like for them to know?” 

for the past week, henry had spent his nights the same way — jolting awake in the office of the factory, sprawled out on the sofa he’d essentially claimed as his own. his guitar was on the floor, the papers he’d been scribbling lyrics on now scattered across his lap, the table, the carpet. groggily, he reached over to check his phone on the table, eyes widening at the sight of the time. there was no point in heading all the way back to brooklyn now. with a sigh, he sat up on the couch, ruffling his hair to make the bedhead curls even messier, before pushing himself up from his seat and heading for the staircase. 

he’d come to the rooftop for a cigarette, but he was met with the sound of white noise and a lean figure sprawled out on one of the daybeds. eyebrows furrowed, henry made his way across the rooftop, a crooked smile appearing on his lips as he realized who it was occupying the space. “ who’s trying to contact us ? ” he replied curiously, raising a brow as he plopped himself down in the beanbag chair beside todd. 

a welcoming half-smile is offered to the other, todd’s eyes following his every move — though, he doesn’t seem to be aware of it. he’s zoned in, kinda, the unexpected sight of henry making him feel some kind of way. only if he could figure that out. instead, his body seems numb, eyelids heavy, but never quite sinking. the question causes him pause, hesitate, but when he speaks again, one could almost believe he knows what’s up. “whoever’s out there. i dunno, it’s hard to tell who’s on your broadcast these days.” the off-the-bat statement is then followed by a weak shrug of bony shoulders. “i asked a question earlier. i think in german?” head tilts slightly to the side, gaze moves from a blank point back to the boy’s features. “they didn’t reply. might be from outside of.. europe.” a pause. it’s as if he realizes he’s been rambling. except, he doesn’t. “are you.. in a hurry?” a small smile. “would you like to stick around? it’s just me, stella and the lads. one hell of a night.” 

brows furrow as he processes the question, expression going from slightly surprised to a tad amused. “i’m sorry?” 

73. do you want to get married?

“someday, maybe i’d love to. as for now? i don’t think i’ve got anyone to.. marry.” 

77. do you miss anyone right now?

“i’ve been thinking ‘bout my mum, a lot, recently. it was actually her birthday, a couple of days ago. we spoke on the phone for a while. i miss her a bit, my dear mummy. we’ll see each other around christmas time, hopefully.” 

100. who was the last person you cried in front of?

”oh. that, i.. dunno..” 

IT’S  1AM  ,  AND  RACHEL’S  BEEN  SKETCHING  for  only  god  knows  how  long  now  ,  trying  to  put  to  paper  visions  of  sculptures  envisioned  by  their  mind’s  eye  ,  trying  to  put  into  2d  what  she  thought  up  in  3d  …  only  to  have  that  2d  illustration  be  brought  to  life  in  a  3d  form  that’s  bound  to  disintegrate  .  when  put  that  way  ,  rachel  can  concede  that  art  ———  or  at  least  their  art  ———  was  weird  and  kind  of  …  well  ,  kind  of  pretentious  ….  but  it’s  art  they  loved  doing  ,  and  they  won’t  apologise  for  that  .  

itching  for  both  a  smoke  and  a  break  ,  rachel  disentangled  themself  from  the  table  and  made  their  way  up  to  the  rooftop  ,  pulling  out  a  crumpled  joint  from  their  inner  jacket  pocket  and  lighting  up  as  soon  as  they  entered  the  foyer  .  usually  ,  they’d  just  light  up  from  where  they’ve  been  sitting  but  they  wanted  to  be  alone  for  a  bit  :  just  them  and  the  stars  and  the  vast  expanse  of  the  city  before  them  .  it’s  not  too  long  before  they  figured  they  weren’t  alone  ,  however  ,  hearing  the  static  that  flitted  in  the  night  air  and  finding  a  familiar  face  seemingly  keeping  vigil  over  the  thing  .

❝  maybe  it’s  broken  ,  ❞  rachel  said  ,  slightly  humouring  the  other  .  ❝  have  you  tried  turning  it  on  and  off  ??  ❞  they  took  a  drag  from  their  joint  and  they  kept  it  in  their  lungs  for  a  while  ,  before  expelling  it  in  a  great  cloud  of  smoke  .  ❝  it’s  early  morning  already  ,  by  the  way  ,  ❞  they  told  todd  .  ❝  what  were  you  doin’  up  here  ,  huh  ??  ❞

broken. right, that’s probably the word. yet, todd doesn’t seem to let that burst whatever bubble he had created for himself to spend the night in. he seems amused, but if looking past the sincerity that paints his features, one could notice the lack of life behind his eyes. at this hour, he’s a product of many, many substances. an example of what happens if you pop one too many pills. and he embraces it. truly, doesn’t seem to be able to break out of the trance. rachel’s question is valid. makes him stop, try to recall any events. “i think so.” he responds softly, but cannot be certain. thus, not convincing. eyes rest on them, move from the expression on their face to the clouds of smoke around their physical existence. the statement takes him by surprise, but he can only feel it.. mildly. “how come?” morning time. how early? he takes a look around, trying to spot his phone, but failing the mission due to the obvious lack of concentration. “have you got the time?” gaze moves back to where they’re stood. “i.. might’ve gotten ahead of myself. all while trying to finish this sodding book.” he admits, a hint of humor thrown into the mixture. a hand reaches for the almost forgotten paperback, moving it to the table before it can fall to the ground. 

The roof was Adelaide’s favourite place to go when she couldn’t sleep. And her favourite thing to do when she couldn’t sleep was to draw; draw something, anything, until her eyes grew heavy and she ended up falling asleep somewhere that wasn’t her bed. The evening was warm and Addie’s mind going wild with thoughts. She took to the roof, her notepad, pencil and eraser in hand. In her experience, the roof was usually dead at this time but not tonight. Heading over to her usual corner, she stumbled upon a guy laying on one of the daybeds. At first she thought maybe he had passed out drunk, but on closer inspection she realised he was still awake and not just some typical drunkard (despite the cans of stella nearby). When he spoke, his words took her by surprise. Both because she hadn’t realised that he knew she was there and also because she had no clue what he was on about. She raised an eyebrow, her eyes following his gesture towards the stereo next to him. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys that stays up all night hoping to spot a UFO?”

an accidentally shaky inhale, and then he lets out a laugh. “no way.” at first, he’s almost assuring. “there’s no need to be.. organizing such. just have it happen, man. any flying object can be unidentified if you haven’t got the facts straight.” a joke of some sort or just a spaced out statement? to be determined. the smile he offers doesn’t give too much away, either. it’s somewhere between sweet, but very fucking tired and nonexistent. but who’s gonna blame a life form on drugs for not being able to control their facial expression to the maximum? slowly, he pushes himself up, a hand reaching for an open can of beer. todd brings it to his lips, takes a sip, lets the liquid run through him. eyes move back to the girl before him, one brow slightly twitching, but it’s no big deal. he clears his throat, but the voice comes out tad raspy, still. “what about you?” a sudden question. “how do you spend your nights?” 

𝚒𝚝 was the noise that had drawn his attention more than anything. A crackling static that almost pained his poor ears the longer he lingered in it. But he persevered, blatant curiosity winning out over sensitivity. For the moment at least. He’d blown a clumsy kiss to the town car as it had rolled away, thus ending his evening with a gentleman a bit too forward to disclose his actual address to. So, the factory. The rooftop was breezy at best, his satin shirt doing little to ward off goosebumps from where it slid against his warmed skin. Though the sight of a familiar face did bring a warmth down his chest and a happy squint of his eyes, their gaze no longer blank in its entirety. “Todddyyyy–” Grey trailed off, too amused to deny the other male his ramblings. Though did he ever? Semantics. He ambled over to sit on the floor, head leaning back to rest against the edge of the daybed. “Who’s contacting you, hmm? The Russians? Did they come for her? Wait....I got it.” A finger stretched out, hoping Todd took the hint and booped it with one of his own– “ E.T phone home. “

a soft, yet wholehearted laugh escapes at the sound of his given nickname. it brings him a certain joy, that’s for sure. the sight of greyson, in what’s probably one of his prettier shirts, isn’t so bad, either. in fact, todd can’t help but somewhat clumsily push himself into a more of a sitting position. "the luv of my life.” he acknowledges in his still very noticeable british accent. gaze rests entirely on the other, following the boy’s movements. he hasn’t seen a person in.. a while. he hasn’t seen grey for.. an almost unsettling amount of time. “they might’ve been from the south of ukraine, darling. now that i think about it, this could be it. factual, only in a parallel.” he mumbles, kinda speaking up, kinda just keeping it to himself. when the boy reaches out, todd follows. arm stretches out, one finger raised. the movement is somewhat slow, but careful. precise. their fingers touch, a soft laugh escaping at the reference, and for a second it looks almost like a ritual of some sort, with the two of them just sitting there like.. that. oof, the commitment. “pleasure hearing from you, mr. spaceman.” a warm smile. a casual, yet careful hand moves to the other’s shirt, fingers brushing against the material. “you look lovely in satin, did you know?” probably. “heading out?” 

she should probably head home. her agent had called her a few hours ago to let her know she had booked a photoshoot and should be well-rested. of course, jessa ignored that last part, she could already listen to the lecture her manager would give her while the makeup artist tried to cover the dark circles under her eyes. she didn’t care. makeup would make her look photo-ready and without wasting a night of talking with a random stranger on the rooftop of the factory. it was creepy, probably but that didn’t stop her from staring at him while he had his eyes closed. “good evening to you,” she said, a smile softly starting to grace her features. her gaze strayed back to the radio and back to him. her eyebrow arched the moment he said ‘they’re trying to contact us’ before she let out a chuckle, nodding to acknowledge the explanation. “and you haven’t talked to them?” she asked, her head shaking in disapproval. “maybe they just want a friend,” she added before she took a seat next to the radio, her nails tapping on it. “hello! i apologize for my friend here, he’s a great listener but apparently not a great talker,” she teased with a chuckle. after waiting for a few seconds and not getting an answer, she turned back to the person laying on the daybed. “i guess they don’t want to talk anymore.”

"i'm in no position to be approaching the extraterrestrial. what if we misunderstand each other?” he wonders out loud, his eyes rested on her, a small, warm smile across his features. then, he just watches her, almost in awe, as she speaks to the radio. it’s almost as if he believes that something’s gonna happen. a soft laugh escapes, curious brows raising ever so slightly, before she turns and the conversation is, again, between just the two of them. “maybe they’re shy?” he suggests. “perhaps.. you scared them off?” an assumption of some sort. “you freaked out the aliens.” it’s lighthearted, sympathetic. “what else can you do, mystery lady?” 

14. if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why?

“i like it here, in greyson’s funky household. it’s got a vibe to it. manhattan, it’s a good one. i’ve found myself here, i think. but, i’d love to go back to england some day. yeah. settle down in  bristol, perhaps. maybe somewhere in liverpool–– the beatles, they were from liverpool.” @astorgreyson

30. whats your favorite candle scent?

“april showers. i found it, the other day. it’s like.. artificial weather, in a jar. brilliant.” 

40. how many times have you been to the hospital?

“oh, not that many,  lately. but i’ve been, in the past. i’m familiar with the place.” 

78. do you sleep with your door open or closed?

”i tend to leave it open, actually.” he pauses, seems to think about it. “it’s more welcoming that way. i don’t mind the visitors.”