Chapter Text
Two people stand on a rooftop at night.
MIKE, also known as MICHAEL CREW, is short, his coat billowing and scarf flowing in the wind. He stands poised at the edge of the roof; a single push could send him toppling all the many stories into the street below. He does not seem to mind; in fact, he stares out across the city skyline as if he’s the most comfortable person in the world.
MICHAEL, also known as THE DISTORTION (and perhaps MICHAEL SHELLEY to some, though they wouldn’t quite be correct), is tall, his loose shirt dyed a bright shade of a color-that-might-exist. His long blonde hair curls and spirals in the breeze. He watches Mike with kaleidoscopic eyes from his vantage point in the middle of the roof.
MICHAEL: Are you going to jump off?
MIKE: Believe me, there is nothing I’d rather do.
MICHAEL, laughing: I’m beginning to think you have a death wish.
MIKE: It isn’t the dying that I’m so eager for.
He peers downwards. A fall of this distance would almost certainly be fatal.
MICHAEL: You want to fall forever.
MIKE: Isn’t it cruel? The longer the distance—the longer the time in the air—and the more certain the death? When I do die, I hope it is from falling a bit too far. That untethered descent, more freeing than a skydive or a ride at the fair, and yet…
MICHAEL: And yet you believe it would kill you.
Beat.
MICHAEL: What if I pushed you?
MIKE: You wouldn’t.
MICHAEL: I could.
MIKE: I’m flattered by the suggestion, but I know that isn’t how your patron feeds. You’d rather just usher me through the wrong door, like you’ve done so many times.
MICHAEL: I do not think your soul is meant to be bound to the Distortion, Michael Crew.
MIKE: Can’t say I’m surprised.
Michael comes closer, peeks over the edge of the building, then steps back, smiling at Mike.
MIKE: Is this it, then? Are you finally going to kill me?
MICHAEL: Who says that you would die if you fell?
MIKE: Everything. All the laws of physics. You know this.
MICHAEL, giggling: But Michael, what is reality to the Spiral? Would you like to fall forever? Vertigo is only in the mind, after all.
MIKE: I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish.
MICHAEL: Maybe I’m just trying to help you.
MIKE, scoffs: Help?
MICHAEL, slow and drawling: Oh, Michael, we are not enemies; I did not carve that fractal scar into your back, as much as I do love to look upon it. But if you were to fall today there is no one who would catch you.
Mike stiffens. Michael notices.
MICHAEL: No, you haven’t found a way to call upon the Vast, yet, have you?
MIKE: Would you stop twisting your words for once and tell me what you want from me.
Michael comes forward to stand right in front of Mike. Even though Mike is standing on the small ledge at the roof’s edge, Michael is still taller.
MICHAEL: I come to offer you some relief, is all.
Michael watches him with that weird and wonderful smile. Mike is beginning to catch on to what’s going on.
MICHAEL: What is the Vast to you? Do you fear it? Do you love it? Do you just want to throw yourself into it, surrender your body and soul to the open and the free? Be…
He giggles.
MICHAEL: …Be consumed by that which loves you?
MIKE, laughs dryly: The Hive is not for me, Michael.
MICHAEL, keeps laughing: Oh, I am only jesting. I know that the Vast does not love you, and you love it all the more for that.
MIKE: …And you. Why the Spiral?
MICHAEL: I thought we were talking about you.
MIKE: I’m curious. Why did you join yourself to the Spiral?
MICHAEL: Why does anyone? I was tricked, in a way.
MIKE: Do you love your patron?
MICHAEL: What am I? What am I to my patron?
MIKE: That’s… not… this is going nowhere.
MICHAEL: Oh, I disagree. We don’t call ourselves the Circle, do we?
He laughs again, as if this joke is particularly clever, and puts a light hand on Mike’s arm.
MIKE: Are you flirting with me?
MICHAEL, grinning: I could be. What makes you say that?
MIKE: Does a Distortion even… have those sorts of… no, it doesn’t matter. You just want to mess with me.
MICHAEL: Maybe. Is that a bad thing?
MIKE: I suppose it’s just in your nature.
MICHAEL: That’s it. Nature.
Mike surveys Michael with a mix of curiosity and reservation.
MIKE: I don’t suppose asking what you want again would yield any more answers.
MICHAEL: Oh, no, the question is what do you want? You want to be held by the singing wind, and you want your mind to twist with vertigo, and you want to be everything and nothing at all—and I can do none of these things for you, but perhaps I could help a little, is all I’m saying. I see how you look at me with that longing and that disgust, because you want to know, but I am not something to be known, Michael Crew. I am just an experience, and though I may be a maddening one, isn’t that what lovers crave?
He puts his hands on Mike’s waist. Mike leans closer, enticed.
MICHAEL: What is it about falling? Something about the rush?
MIKE: Yeah. Something like that.
He wraps his arms around Michael’s shoulders and kisses him. There’s a note of “what the hell, why not” in his action. They sway at the edge of the building, so close to falling off but never doing so. It’s quiet and passionate. Michael picks Mike clear off the ground and carries him towards the center of the roof, spinning around and around.
MIKE, laughing: I’m dizzy.
MICHAEL: Good.
He kisses him some more, clearly having lots of fun, then puts him down on solid ground.
MIKE, disoriented: Wow. You’re good.
MICHAEL: I have practice.
Mike stands up straight, and takes a step away from Michael, looking more than a little embarrassed.
MIKE: Was all that really just to get me to kiss you?
MICHAEL: Oh, no. I enjoy confusing banter. We should do this again sometime.
MIKE: Is it lonely in the Distortion?
MICHAEL: I am the Distortion.
MIKE: So you never get…
MICHAEL: For one to be alone, they must be an individual. Wholly real and really whole. Do not worry about me. Enjoy your sky. I think I understand why you like it so much.
He opens a door that was not there before, and disappears through it.