Chapter Text
“Rocky, what the actual fuck—”
His roommate, who was currently lying on the living room floor, surrounded by what seemed to be 12 Hot Wheel cars, sat up and smiled at him, “Oh hey, Grace.”
Oh God, what have I gotten myself into?
You must be wondering how Ryland Grace got himself into this situation. Maybe it’s better to rewind a bit, to the very beginning.
Dr. Ryland Grace was a well-known prodigy / brilliant scientist in his field. He was once at the top of his field in microbiology, being co-authors in numerous outstanding and well-acknowledged researches. However, that all changed after he published a rather controversial paper of his own volition. He believed it could be a revolutionary perspective on how life in the universe came to be; reaching beyond the principles established by humanity and the box we all have locked ourselves in. But to his surprise, he received heavy criticism from his fellow colleagues and the general audiences alike. Some more or less disrespectful than others.
One of whom, Grace may or may not have called.... a staggering waste of carbon.
( Before he eventually landed a punch to his face but Grace never once regretted it )
Grace, now 25 years old, is currently working as a teacher at a high school in New York City. He’s well-loved by his students and his colleagues alike but being likeable wasn’t going to help with his bills now, would it?
It was a gloomy and dark night, like any other. Grace’s apartment building was located in the more secluded area of the city, away from the general public; the hustle of commuter life. Moreover, there wasn’t smoke waving through his windows whenever he opened them in the morning. Instead, he was met with a simple brick wall, a feet across from his room.
The hour was around eleven that night. Ryland Grace was sat on one of the steps running up into his apartment building. The blaring horns of frustrated drivers along with police sirens echoed through the air but they were distant enough not to disturb him and his alone time.
He patted around the insides of his jacket and beamed upon feeling the familiar texture of his cigarette box and lighter. Taking them out, he lit himself one cigar before putting it between his lips.
Looking across the barren street before him, he saw that there were maybe one or two people passing by. All of whom were just trying to get home as quickly as they could, getting the little rest they were able to in their busy lives.
Survival was definitely not for the weak. Grace knew this better than anything.
He huffed out a big cloud of smoke and felt the slight prickling of the cigar hit his lungs. Despite being fully aware of the risks of smoking, the painful sensation helped him de-stress and relax from another hectic week, another array of endless routines.
Not to mention, it satiated his hunger, something he wasn’t able to prioritize for now. It was either starvation or being homeless. He wasn’t about to sleep on the streets, putting himself in more danger than he could handle.
Feeling a little claustrophobic from his fears, Grace looked up and tried to find solace through the view of the heavens above. That earned him a soft chuckle.
He had hoped he could at least see the sky but all he saw was the glaring tall building which stood across from his apartment. It blocked most of the night sky, only allowing him to appreciate a portion of such a beautiful night.
What a shitty fucking life. Grace thought, pushing away his tears. That would only leave him unnecessarily exhausted.
“Hello.”
Grace accidentally inhaled too much smoke than he intended and immediately pulled out his cigar. He ended up in a coughing fit. The unknown voice called out to him again,
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t meant to surprise you.” Grace put his hand up, “No— Give me a minute.”
After a few more coughing fits, he finally managed to get it all out of his system. Grace looked up to the stranger who appeared out of nowhere.
He wasn’t about to get murdered, was he? Would that be a better option for him?
At first glance, all Grace could notice was how beautiful this stranger’s hair looked. It was curled in such a way that mimicked a wave of the ocean. But, it differs from it as the curls were frozen in space. It had a mixture of grey and black intertwined together, swirling across like a chocolate topping on a sundae. Despite the evident grays in his hair, he looked to be around early 30s, definitely older than himself.
What intrigued Grace more was the outfit of the man. He was quite tall, around 5’9 or so. He adorned the familiar garments of a mechanic, with a large backpack visible even from the front, its borders tethering from the sides of the man’s torso. Since this stranger’s sleeves were raised up until his elbows, Grace could see their forearms were plastered with bandages and scars.
The man pressed his big, round glasses up to his face as he looked worriedly upon Grace,
“Smoking kills, you know.”
Grace waved away his concern, “I’m well aware.” He forced a smile. He didn’t really expect to talk to anyone at this late hour. He had clocked out off socialization about an hour ago so this all came so suddenly upon him.
“What— Uhm— Who are you?”
The older man flashed a bright smile upon him. He was beaming with energy despite the late hour. Given the evident bags under his eyes, Grace theorized he was most likely running off of adrenaline.
“My name is Piers Ortiz. You could call me Rocky, most friends of mine do.” He extended his hand out. Grace, the sleep-deprived idiot, blinked at the hand for a few moments before realizing what was actually happening.
He sprung up and immediately shook Ortiz’s hand,
“Sorry, I’m a bit loopy at the moment. I’m— Doc—” He bit his tongue, immediately retracting his statement,
“— I’m Ryland Grace. You can call me Grace.”
After the brief handshake, Ortiz— Rocky spoke again,
“Do you happen to live at this building?” He pointed at the structure behind Grace.
The younger man nodded despite feeling a little ashamed to admit his living conditions. “I found this flyer you see— Someone was looking for a possible roommate, I was wondering if you could guide me to the right unit? I don’t mean to be a bother.”
Rocky brought out a piece of flyer from his pocket and handed it to Grace, who let out a soft laugh, feeling a little surprised at the sudden coincidence. It was his flyer, the one he put up six months before. After all this time, Grace believed he would just have to endure starvation and live off of simple biscuits daily.
There had been multiple persons who visited the area and inquired for him. Most of them definitely had ulterior motives, Grace saw it from their nonverbal expressions. Others simply had one look at his apartment and was already ways away.
Could he have finally found his roommate?
“Wow, this sure is a coincidence. I’m—” Grace flinched as he realized his cigarette was burning very closely to his fingers,
“Ow, shit, give me a second.”
He ran to a nearby trashcan before dropping the cigarette and stomping on it multiple times, “Believe it or not, I’m actually the guy who put up that poster.” Grace exclaimed as he threw away his cigar.
A hearty laugh escaped Rocky’s lips; the wrinkles on his cheeks being emphasized as he smiled, “Really, now? I’m quite eager to find some housing, possibly by this week?” His voice sounded quite uncertain.
Grace scanned Rocky up and down. He didn’t seem to have anything up his sleeve, just looked like a tired guy trying to find shelter. But the bigger question nagged at Grace, Why was he inquiring so late at night?
Grace cleared his throat and stated the obvious in an attempt to deflect this person for now. Strangers can’t be easily trusted, after all. Definitely not the ones in this part of New York.
“The landlord might be asleep right now but since it’s Sunday tomorrow, you could come back in the morning and we’ll talk about the details.”
“Asleep? More like woken up by your racket out here, Mr. Ryland.” A tattered voice came from inside the building. The door was opened ajar as an old woman stepped out, a shotgun hung around her torso. Rocky visibly stiffened.
“Hey, Tessie.” Grace greeted so casually.
“What’s all this ruckus? Who are you?” Tess asked, staring directly at Rocky, whose eyes were intently directed at the shotgun.
“Good evenin’, Ma’am! The name is Piers Ortiz. I was inquiring about Grace’s posting— He was searching for a possible roommate.”
Tess looked at Grace, waiting for further explanation. “I told him, he could come by in the morning. Figured you were asleep, Tessie.” The old woman, with her gray hairs popping from the top of her head, grunted out,
“You a murderer, Mr. Ortiz?” She deliberately had her hand slowly run through the edges of the shotgun. Rocky was shaking his head, “N-No, Ma’am. I was really just trying to find a place to sleep in.”
“You got any money?”
“Yes, Ma’am! Enough for the rent. I could—”
“Hmph,” Tess grunted as she walked back in but let the door remain open, “Well, what are you doing, Ryland? Come in and we’ll discuss business. Figured I’ve already woken up cause of the noise.”
The conversation was swift with Tess. She was always the person who valued her time and limited the amount of work she needed to do, especially if it were already late at night. But Grace knew, that deep down inside, Tess was able to get things done quickly and efficiently. She was one of the reasons he felt safe to move into such a old and secluded building. Despite everything, it was still well-taken care of, to the best of her abilities.
On the other hand, Rocky was more than amicable during the exchange. Grace asked a few questions here and there, about his current circumstances and living conditions; what could have possibly made him go here at the middle of the night.
Rocky was honest and frank with them. He was just short on cash. He’d love to send as much money he could back to his family, rather than waste it on his living expenses.
Once Tess gave him the look, Grace knew this person was the suitable to be his roomate. Fucking finally.
After all that, Grace told Rocky to take the elevator up to the third floor; that he’d follow after. As he disappeared from sight, Grace turned to Tess,
“I mean, he looks trustworthy enough, right?”
Tess patted his shoulder. Her voice was now less rough than before, “I’d say he’s alright, sonny. Doesn’t seem to have any bad intentions but a nightly move is a bit abrupt. Lock your doors, try not to get murdered. I don’t want to deal with the police and all that.”
That made Grace laugh, earning a glare from Tess. He immediately shut up, “Good night, Tessie. Thanks for all the help.”
Tess nodded at him, “’Least your expenses would be split in half now. Go to sleep, Grace. And for the love of God, quit that smoking.” And with that, she prodded back into her own room. Grace watched her go and only left until he heard her five locks being bolted shut.
Grace exited the elevator to see Rocky standing by the hallway, looking around his surroundings. Grace broke the silence by making the last few questions he could muster for small talk, “Rocky, what do you do for work? You’re a bit muscular, are you an athlete or something?” He asked casually, trying to know everything he could before this stranger entered home.
Grace guided Rocky down a dimly lit hallway as he replied, “I’m a mechanic. Work on cars and parts like that.” Grace nodded in acknowledgement. They finally arrived at the front of his door,
“Look, Rocky, I’m glad I finally found a roommate. Expenses these days.” He tried to sound as pitiful as he could. Grace knew this apartment building wasn’t well-desired. Aside from Tess, there were a lot of cons living in this area. Shady deals often occurred near the building and not to mention the lack of street lighting in the place. But, this was all Grace could afford; along with Tess’ mercy.
He really was at the bottom of the pit.
As they entered the apartment, Grace noticed Rocky was taking off his shoes before entering,
“Hey, man, it’s hella dirty in here. You can keep your shoes on.” Rocky seemed abashed by the statement and Grace noticed the hesitancy in his expression.
“I just haven’t had the time to clean this week. I swear, I clean the apartment often!” He admitted, trying his best to convince Rocky to stay.
God damn, what was he, a lost puppy trying to get an owner? He sounded so desperate.
Rocky looked at him and then to their surroundings. There was a calculative look in his gaze, as if trying to weigh the pros and cons of the situations. Rocky considered his current financial status again and then looked back at the apartment.
I mean, it was a little messy but beggars can’t be choosers, right? He could fix this place right up, with just a little bit of elbow grease.
After a while, the two retreated to their own spaces. Grace offered him the empty bedroom right across his. The rooms were almost identical to one another, both missing a bed or any furniture upon the first few nights. After a bit of saving, Grace only managed to purchase two single, plastic beds and thin mattresses for each room.
It wasn’t much but he hoped Rocky wouldn’t mind.
As he laid in the darkness, Grace stared at the ceiling above him. He considered the stranger he had suddenly welcomed into his house. He fell asleep a few hours later, exhausted from the gnawing sensation of hunger eating him from inside.