Author's note: The characters are Jonathan's. The lyrics are Matt Caplan's, and the title is from his song "Greenbay". The story is mine. Reviews would be great. This is my first RENTfic, and my first go at m/r slash. Hope you like it.
Mark's POV
I looked at the clock, and jumped with a start. It was already 9:45 and I still hadn't bought batteries for my radio. If I wanted to hear Roger's voice again, I would have to do just that, and so I ran out to the deli in the cold. My sweater was too thin to keep the wind out and because I was in such a rush, I had forgotten to put my jacket on. But it was all right, because I made it home just before 10, which was when Roger was coming on the air. I turned the radio on – the tuner was already set to the local rock station, and a commercial was on, telling me that in just moments, Roger Davis would be live on the air, performing his new song Greenbay, as well as a few other songs, and that I should stay tuned.
I'm feeling good tonight. It's been so long since I've heard Roger's voice. It was weird at first, not seeing him all the time. Right after he left, I didn't know what to do with myself. I would spend days just reliving the day he left – his quick hug goodbye, and then him jumping into his car and driving off, god knows where. I cried and cried…I wouldn't leave the house. Collins and his new boyfriend came over, so did Maureen and Joanne. They all tried to cheer me up, but I think they already knew that I loved him. In a more-than-friendly way. So, eventually they stopped trying to cheer me up, and I cheered myself up. I'm ok now. I've even had a few girlfriends and boyfriends. It was good for me to start seeing people. It's been a good 2 years since Roger anyway. And Roger's doing good. He's making music – beautiful music. And I'm still here, but I'm ok.
My attention was suddenly called back to the radio – Roger was on. He sounded good. The interview was short. Roger told the DJ that he would be in New York for a while, working on a new album, and told him about his days living in the East Village. I almost expected him to mention me, and he did. He talked about how his friends were his family back then, and about how I took care of him, but never actually mentioned my name. It made me feel good that he remembered me. He said that his T-cells were high, and his viral load low. It was good to know he was doing well. Then he started playing his song, and when he came to my favorite part, I started to cry despite myself. It just sounded like the story of my life with him.
"And that's alright if there is no romance, 'cos I can watch you dance. Yea from the corner, I can watch you dance. And I know we're getting older but I can watch you dance…"
I started remembering all the times when he would take me to clubs with him, dragging me out to mingle with more people, telling me that I would rot if I stayed home. (This was in the pre-April, pre-HIV+ days.) And I would just sit at the bar, and he'd always find a way to get on the platform in the middle of the club, and he'd just dance. He would tear his shirt off, the sweat on his body gleaming, and he would dance. He looked so beautiful, young and healthy.
I turned the radio off. Roger wasn't done singing yet, but I can't listen to anymore of it. I need to get a hold of myself. I haven't cried like this since just after he left. "Well, fuck that," I muttered. "I can cry all I want." And I curled up in a ball on the couch, the couch where me and Roger had sat together, laughing, so many times, and cried for him.
Roger's POV
It feels weird to be back in the city again, after all these months. I've been avoiding New York, trying my best to stay away from all the memories it harbors. But now, here I am on 14th and 8th, trying my best to figure out how the fuck I came to be back here, so close to home.
I've been walking around for the past hour, trying to find a place to sit down and have a coffee – a place that wasn't a Starbucks. God, when I first moved to the city, there wasn't a single Starbucks here. At least, not one that I knew of. Now, it's hard to find a block without one on it. I know one place I can go – Life. But…I'm not sure I'm ready to be so close to the loft, to drink my coffee in a restaurant where I spent a good 5 years of my life.
I walked into Starbucks and ordered a small Kenyan blend. Picking up a copy of the Voice, I sat down and nursed my beverage. The hot coffee burned my lips, but it was a nice change from the cold November air. I flipped back to the concert section, and, to my surprise, saw an advert for my own show, which was that night at Irving Plaza. It's weird to see my name in print, right under the band's name, and even weirder knowing that anyone in New York could see it too. "God…what if someone I once knew comes to this?" I thought, and then, "What if no one comes?" But I know I have nothing to worry about. The show's been sold out for a couple of days now. The guys in the band couldn't believe it. I guess all we needed to get our big break was to leave the city for a while. Now everyone here seems to love us.
The door of the coffee shop opened, and a beautiful blond walked in, a small, brown-haired man following. I went back to my coffee, thinking nothing of it at first, but then I looked up again and saw that it was Maureen and Mark. God. "I know it's inevitable that I see my friends, but … it's so soon." My eyes darted frantically from them to the door – they are at the counter, and there is no way to make a quick exit without them seeing me. "Well…here goes."
Mark saw me first. Maureen was saying something to him, and he was glancing around, obviously bored. His eyes met mine, and locked in on them for several seconds. He then quickly turned away, disbelieving, and tapped Maureen on the arm, "Look."
"Oh. My. God. Roger Davis! Where have you been?" she squealed, as she ran over, knocking into the other people in the restaurant. "I mean, obviously you've been making music and probably fucking every hot girl you've met, knowing you"—she winked—"but where have you been? And," she pouted, "Why haven't you called?"
"I…" my voice trailed off. I was overwhelmed. Maureen had always been overwhelming. I looked over at Mark. He had tears in his eyes, it seemed, but he was smiling, if a little timidly. I walked over to him and hugged him, hoping that I wasn't imposing on him after being away from him all these years. The tears that had been welling up in his eyes spilled down his cheeks as he hugged me back. "I missed you," I whispered.
"Yeah," he sighed. "Me too."