Chapter 10: No reason.
Teddy doesn't have a reason, that's how he knows it matters. No shoot. No press. No convenient overlap of schedules to justify it. No accidental hallway crossing he can pretend wasn't intentional. Just a location he overheard and the decision to go.
"I live in Aspen Towers, a short walk over."
It's late enough that the city has softened. Not asleep, never that. Just quieter, looser at the edges.
Teddy finds the building without trouble. He tells himself that's coincidence.
It isn't.
Glancing at the call buttons he finds the name: Rudy Mann. He sneaks in behind another resident entering the building.
Rudy's door is unmarked. Of course it is. Teddy stands there longer than he expected to. Not nervous, not exactly. Just ware of the absence of performance. There's no version of himself prepared for this. No script, no angle. He knocks anyway.
It takes a few seconds, then the door opens. Rudy doesn't look surprised, that's the first thing. Not curious. Not thrown. Just registers him like he was already accounted for.
"You found it," Rudy says, like he was meant to be there.
"Wasn't hard."
Rudy steps back, leaving space, Teddy takes it.
The room is quieter than Teddy expected. Not empty. Not stark, just intentional. A camera on the table, a few prints framed on the wall. Nothing arranged for display, nothing trying to impress. It feels like a place where things are looked at, not shown. Teddy moves slowly, taking it in without making it obvious he's doing it.
"You live like this?" he asks.
Rudy closes the door behind him, "Yes."
Teddy glances back, "No chaos? No mess?"
Rudy's answer is simple, "I don't need it to feel something."
Not as a judgment, as a difference between the two of them.
Teddy nods once, files it somewhere he doesn't name, then drifts closer to the wall. The photos aren't of him, not directly, but he recognizes the type. People mid-shift, mid-thought, mid-becoming. No one posing. No one finished.
Teddy studies one longer than the others, "You wait for them to drop."
"Yes."
Teddy tilts his head slightly, "And then?"
"I take it before they notice."
A pause. Teddy huffs a faint breath, "Yeah. That tracks."
Silence settles. Not awkward, just unfilled. Teddy turns from the wall, faces him. No audience, no lens between them...just this.
"You don't have your camera," Teddy says.
Rudy shakes his head, "I didn't ask you here for that."
Teddy's mouth curves, faint, "You didn't ask me here at all."
"No."
Another pause, this one sharper because now it's named.
Teddy shifts his weight. For once, not sure what the next move is supposed to be.
"So what is this?" he asks.
Rudy doesn't answer immediately. He steps closer instead, not crowding, not distant, just present.
"This is where you came without a reason," he says.
That lands deeper than Teddy expects. He looks at him, really looks - no deflection, no smirk to hide behind.
"Yeah," Teddy admits.
Quiet. Real.
Something changes in the room, not visibly, but it's there - the absence of pretense.
Teddy exhales slowly, "You're going to get boring if you keep being right."
Rudy almost smiles, "That's unlikely."
That pulls a small, real laugh out of Teddy. Short. Warm. Gone quickly, but it was there.
They stand like that for a moment. No roles to fall into. No structure holding them in place, just two people who don't quite fit anywhere else.
"You didn't have to come," Rudy says.
Teddy's answer is immediate, "I know."
"Then why did you?"
There it is, the question without an easy performance attached. Teddy looks away briefly, not to avoid, to find the right version of the truth.
"Because you don't...take anything from me," he says.
The words come slower than usual. Less polished.
"Everyone else does. Even when they don't mean to."
A pause.
"You don't."
Rudy absorbs that without reacting outwardly, but something in his posture shifts. Subtle. Real."
"I see you," Rudy says.
"Yeah," Teddy replies, "that's different."
Silence again, but now it's softer. Not empty. Held.
Teddy steps a little closer. Not testing. Not performing. Just closing a distance that doesn't feel necessary anymore.
"You're still not going to fix anything," he says.
Rudy's answer is steady.
"No."
Teddy nods, "Good."
A beat, then-
"You can stay," Rudy adds.
Not an invitation dressed up as something else, just an option.
Teddy considers it, really considers it. Which is new, he's used to leaving before things settle. Before things become something he can't control.
This time he doesn't move.
"Okay, he says.
Simple. Decided.
The city hums quietly outside. Inside, nothing demands anything from him. No performance. No expectation. No version to maintain. Just space, and someone who sees him without trying to turn him into something else.
Teddy leans back against the wall, sliding down just enough to sit, legs stretched out in front of him. No elegant. Not posed. Just there.
Rudy doesn't interrupt it. Doesn't capture it, just joins him a few feet away. Close enought, not closer than that.
That's new. That's dangerous. That's real.
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