Chapter Text
Connor looked back at his phone, and then back up to the old church building. His GPS wasn’t wrong, and the building had the address he was given. With sigh, he started typing out a message.
/ Hey, this is Connor. I think I may have written the address down wrong. Could you resend it to me?
/ If you’re standing in front of an old stone church, then you’re here. I’ll meet you at the side door.
/ OK
Connor pocketed his phone and got back on his bike, traveling the short distance down the gravel drive. As he approached, he saw a man step out of the red door at the side of the building. He held up his hand, and Connor gave a short wave in reply.
He was caught off guard by the handsome man smiling warmly at him. He had had a different concept in mind when the man said he was a grad student studying art—something a bit more bohemian or disordered, but this man was nothing but clean cut lines and simple, fashion-forward looks to culminate in a rather too good looking ensemble. And the man was definitely a grad student—his defined facial features placed him in his late twenties. He had a close shaved head, bright eyes, and his face tapered sharply into a handsome heart shape, but still somehow had an almost boyish, soft charm to it. And his casual and well-fit clothes accented his athletic build.
Connor squashed his reaction of being flustered and he instead focused on trying his best to look cool—cool as one can look rolling up on a beat up, second-hand bike. He needed to make a good impression; this was the most affordable place he could find close enough to campus.
“Hi, I’m Connor. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person.”
Markus laughed warmly and shook his hand, and Connor almost cringed at how ridiculously formal he must sound to this guy.
“I’m Markus. The pleasure’s all mine. You can leave your bike here for now, and let’s head up to the flat.”
Connor rested the scratched up bike against the building and followed the man into the old church.
As they climbed the old wooden stairs, ancient creaks and groans punctuating Markus's story.
“This church was the one of the oldest in the community. But the congregation aged out and as the university grew fewer people had houses nearby. The university was going to buy this, like it did the land all around it. But then Carl Manfred—maybe you’ve heard of him? He’s a pretty famous artist. Anyway, he knows the university will low ball the bid and so he gives them a fair price for it and the university lost this, and then lost its shit. He basically blew the university’s plan to spend a few million dollars on a new stadium.”
Markus opened the heavy wooden door—with a bit of a shove, Connor noticed—and they walked into what could only be the attic. But instead of cobwebs and low ceilings and a dark, dingy space, it was full of light. Natural light from windows, painted light from stained glass, ambient light reflected off the soft colors on the walls—it was breathtaking.
“I can see why an artist would be here, look at all of the different light,” he commented, taking in everything.
“Exactly, thank you.” Markus smiled again and gestured at his place. “Finally, someone who gets it.”
Connor demurred. “Oh, I’m no artist. But I know enough about the importance of perception and light.”
Markus looked him square in the eye in surprise, and Connor thought he had to be blushing under the scrutiny. “I thought you said you’re an economics major?”
“I am,” Connor said a bit defensively. He continued softly, “I can’t make art, or really understand it, to be honest, but I can understand some of the elements of it, one of them being light.”
Markus kept studying him, so Connor stepped aside to get a better view of the place and to escape the feel of the man’s gaze.
“It’s… a lot bigger than I thought,” Connor said in surprise. When he responded to the listing of sharing a studio flat with someone, he imagined a cramped space, not this long, narrow room that followed the entire length the church roof. It was semi-organized in three areas—a workspace for painting, a sort of lounge area, and open bedroom area.
Markus stepped back into his view.
“You can have either space you’d like—the middle or the end of the space. The bathroom is there, though, so you’d have to put up with me popping in to take a shower.”
Don’t you dare think about this charming man taking a shower, Connor scolded himself. He walked down the length of the room, carefully considering his options. He could be in the center, but then his roommate would have to cross back and forth to reach his art area. He could rig up some kind of screen or sheet at the end at least so that no one walked through his space to reach the sole bathroom. It would very much limit his space, but he didn’t really need that much.
“I don’t need much space. If you’re willing to let me have the end, I think I’d like that best.”
“That works fine,” Markus replied. “Oh, and if you have a tv or couch, we can squeeze it in here in the middle if you’d like.”
Connor waved his hands. “Oh, no, you don’t have to worry. It’s just me, and my bike, and my bed.”
Markus looked both surprised and relieved. “OK, cool. Then I’ll just move my bed over and clear out my stuff before you move in.”
Connor looked up at the painted ceiling and then leaned over the man’s bed to look out the small octagon window to see the empty, grassy field around the church.
He gestured to the view. “So, the university owns all of this?”
Markus joined him at the window. “Yeah. And it’s all useless right now until they can buy the church.”
Connor thought through the implications and just couldn’t understand what motivated the man to buy the church or rent it out as space. Surely the university would now give him an excellent price for the land?
“Why didn’t he sell it? I mean, the man that bought this place. I’m sure the university would have doubled what he paid for it.”
The graduate student laughed—Connor already loved that laugh, it was soft and warm—and grinned as he told the rest of the story. Markus began walking to the floor cushions in the center of the room and Connor followed, intrigued by the story.
“So, Carl gave a lot of money to the university. A lot. To go to the arts. And the art department got an increase, but two years later there was a massive cut and the stadium plans were announced.”
“Ah, so Carl’s purchase was revenge.”
“The biggest fuck you he could give to the university,” Markus smirked and settled on a cushion.
Connor took off his messenger bag and settled on a floor pillow opposite. “So that’s why it’s in this empty lot. The university must have been buying out houses for the last few years. But why did—Carl, you said? Why did Carl rent it? I mean, it’s nice, but I assume the bottom part is still a church?”
Markus nodded. “Yeah, it’s all still the church down below. Well, you see, the university wanted to take him to court about this being a sort of revenge purchase, and something about upkeep and abandoned buildings and what not. So he rented it to exactly one person,” he pointed to himself, “so that he could say it was a rental property and negate all of the legal stuff the university was trying to throw at him so he’d lose the church.”
Connor chuckled quietly and met the grad’s eyes. “You know, economically speaking, this is like a thriller novel. I mean, it is so unlikely this revenge purchase would happen, and then you can get lost thinking how it would affect the decisions of the university and the city around it for years to come.”
Markus rested his elbow on his knee and head on his hand and looked directly at Connor. “Is that your favorite way to get lost in thought? Thinking through all of the economic possibilities and statistics and theories?”
Connor felt his face and neck grow warm and he battled the urge to shrink in on himself. He wasn’t used to really being noticed, let alone someone making direct eye contact. When Markus gave a small chuckle and broke his gaze, Connor cursed his fair complexion for giving him away.
“It’s OK, you don’t have to answer that.”
Connor started out of his shyness. “Oh! No, I just, I.. I am that person. I mean, a statistics person? A book person. Not really a person person?” Oh hell, he was babbling.
Markus rose and offered his hand to Connor to help him up from the floor. “Well, I’m a ‘person-person’."
He took the hand and scolded himself for admiring how effortlessly the artist was able to help him off the floor. Connor wasn’t that light but this guy just pulled him up without even holding his breath. It was so dumb—in police academy training people had to haul others up all the time and he never once got flustered like this.
“So, okay, a people person. Are you ok if your roommate isn’t? I mean, is me?”
This was the moment. It was this corner of the roof of an old church or back to his semi-homelessness of couch surfing and library sleeping. Connor really hoped he didn’t screw this up.
Markus patted him on the shoulder and guided him to the door. “Absolutely. I could use some new perspectives in my life, even statistical ones.”
If Connor didn’t work out he was pretty sure he’d have collapsed right there out of sheer emotional levity. He had a place to live. That he could afford. God, this would make his life so much easier.
“Great! Um, when did you want a roommate—me, to move in?”
“Just give me a few hours to re-arrange stuff. Hell, you could move in tomorrow afternoon if you’d like.”
Tomorrow afternoon. Only one more night of awkwardly texting friends to see if he could stay over. Finally.
“Okay,” Connor tried his best to sound casual. “Actually tomorrow afternoon works for me, so… Is it a date?
Connor immediately regretted his choice of words, but any explanation—and any ability to breathe—was stopped when he saw the grad student grin and make a show of looking him up and down.
“Okay, it’s a date.”
God, Connor thought, just throw yourself down these stairs and save yourself from the slow death of eternal embarrassment.
“Uh, ha, okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Connor waved briefly, then opened the old wood door and made his way as quickly as he could down the stairs. When he burst through the side door, he could only think about all of the nervous energy in his body, and how he wasn’t sure if this next semester was going to be the best or worst of his life.