Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Jonathan Larson.
It's been a year and some months since Angel died. I remember all those months ago how she was. Pains me to think about it, actually. I remember how I would sit next to her in her hospital room, taking my shift like everyone else. If there was one thing any of us didn't want, it was to have Angel die alone. I remember sitting there with damp cheeks, watching as the virus took hold of her small form. I remember sitting there praying to God she'd pull through. I remember sitting there.. knowing she wouldn't. I remember sitting there with fear. Not just for her and not just for Collins or anyone else that loved her for that matter, but for me. I feared for my future. I knew it was selfish to be thinking of myself at a time like that, but if that awful disease could do this to her and millions of others, when would my time come? When would I be in that same position? When would I finally stop fighting and let the disease overtake me?
All those thoughts would be on a constant loop in my head during those times...and they still are. They're still there, constantly flowing through my brain. Not because of Angel dying, no, but because it finally happened.
I stopped fighting. My body stopped fighting. I was dying. I am dying.
It's amazing how so much can change in a year. Last year, I was mourning the loss of Angel, getting ready to leave town, leaving Mimi, leaving everyone. But now, here I am, back in the city. Even back in the same goddamn hospital. Same room too, but that was by request rather than fate. If I was going to die, then damnit, I was going to die where Angel died.
I was brought out of my reverie when my hospital door opened.
"Knock knock," came the voice that I've become so accustomed to over the years. Even more so in the past year.
"Hey," I groan weakly from my bed. I hated the fact that this virus weakened every part of me. Obviously, it wasn't very considerate if it couldn't even spare me my voice.
He walked closer to me, smiling that innocent little grin of his, "How you feeling?" He asked, leaning slightly over my hospital bed to place a sweet kiss atop my head.
"Like I'm dying," I reply bluntly. No reason to sound enthusiastic. No reason to lie either.
He looks down at me with sad eyes from behind his glasses. I've hit a nerve. I should know better. I do know better.
He doesn't say anything and the room remains silent. I hate it when he gets quiet like this because everytime he does, it was because he had been wounded. Certain words could pierce his body like a bullet and it always seemed as if I was the only one around carrying a pistol.
He started to speak up again, "Do you need anything?" He asks, making eye contact, but only for a moment.
I nod a negative. I do have a few things that I need, or want really, but I'm in no condition.
"Well, I'll be right back. I'm gonna go get some coffee." He looks at me a little bit longer this time, giving me a sympathetic grin. I nod again. He rises from his seat and exits the room, letting the door close with a click behind him.
I turn my attentions to the window, staring out into the early March skies.
------
I came home, walking right past the flashing red light on the answering machine and straight into my room. I need to pack. I need to leave. I need to leave tonight. I need to leave NOW. I can't take it anymore. The city, the people, the regret. How could she die? How the FUCK could Angel die? Leave us like this? Leave us all broken and torn like she could care less. She left me, Collins, Mimi, Maureen, Mark. She left all of us. I know it's not rational to be angry at her for this because she didn't ask to die. If anything, she'd probably ask to be immortal, so her and Collins could continue living and loving each other.. forever.
But that's what I would think in a rational state of mind, and right now, I'm far from it.
As I'm stuffing worn out jeans and ripped flannel t-shirts into a duffel bag, I hear the door to the apartment open. It's him. He's home. I know exactly what's coming my way.
"Hey," he says a tad bit sheepishly, leaning up against my bedroom doorframe.
I look up at him for a moment, meeting his gaze, but not saying a word.
"Look, I know it's been a rough day for you.. for everyone for that matter, but.. you can't leave."
I scoff, continuing to rip apart my room for items of worth.
"Yeah?" I ask. "Why not?"
"Because.." he looks down at his feet as if everything he's about to say is etched in chalk on my bedroom floor. "Because there's so much to care about."
"Like what?" I ask, knowing full well who and what he's going to list.
"There's me, there's Mimi, Collins, Maureen, Ang--" He stops himself.
I scoff again, at his honest, but stupid mistake, "Excuse me, what was that last one again?" I say, the tone in my voice exceeding harsh. "Did you say..Angel? Must've forgotten about her and how much she cares. Oh, wait, that's right! She's not here to care anymore, Mark! She's gone. She's dead! Do you get that,Mark? Dead! D-E-A-D!" I know I'm overreacting, but at the moment, I could honestly give a damn.
He looks to my window, staring out into the city of neon and chrome. He looks like he's about to cry. He reverts his eyes back on mine.
"I know she's dead! I know, okay Roger?! I was there! I saw her body in that.. " He pauses to sniffle. "..in that FUCKING casket! I gave a FUCKING eulogy! I know she's dead! I know..." He starts to break down now, tears falling uncontrollably from his eyes.
"I know," He says again, that being all he can manage.
Before the non-rational part of my brain has time to react, the rational part takes over. I'm wrapping him up in my arms, the same way I did when he found out about Maureen cheating on him.
"Shhh.." is all that leaves my lips. I want to comfort him, I do, but I also want to storm out and leave this city behind. I was going to go to Santa Fe. Not sure what I'm going to do there really, but I was going to go anyway. Maybe I could even start up a restaurant like we all talked about on the subway that day that seems like a lifetime ago. But here he goes and breaks down like this. I know damn well now that I cannot whatsoever leave him. Not in this state of mind, anyway.
Before I know it, I'm choking up tears myself, not even caring that I have his shaking, sobbing form in my arms. For awhile, we cry, just cry. Letting it all out, not having any boundaries right now. Just two shaking, broken souls relying on each other in a time of need. In this moment, that's who and what we are and I'd be a liar if I said I didn't like it just a bit.
Two soaken t-shirts later and we're sitting on the foot of my bed, still holding each other. Every now and then he nuzzles his nose into my shirt, wiping it. I don't really care anyway. It's not like I like the shirt. I only went out to buy it for the funeral. Probably wouldn't ever wear it again anyhow.
"Rog.." he says slowly, sniffling for the umpteenth time that night.
"Yeah?" I reply, looking down at him, still not quite seeing his face yet.
He looks up at me and the sight breaks my heart.
Behind his glasses, his eyes are red rimmed and bloodshot and he has this sad little frown on his face. He looks like a lost little lamb, looking for his Mary. His nose is red and reminds me of Rudolph. I push the thought out of my head seeing as this is no time to joke, but I'll be sure to bring it up at a later time, when we can laugh about this.
I wonder how long that'll be.
His bloodshot eyes are boring into mine now, which I'm guessing are bloodshot as well. The look he's giving me scares me a little. I'm not too sure what he has in store at the moment..
..I find out a split second later.
His lips are pressed onto mine and his hands are cupping the sides of my face. I'm in a state of shock for a few moments, but then slowly start to kiss back.
I've been with my share of guys yes, but I've never really quite tasted lips like his. They taste like coffee, which I don't get because I haven't seen him have a cup in ages. But, they also taste like tears which is a weird yet calming mix.
Every other guy that I've kissed always tasted like cigarettes, beer, weed, things like that. So this, this is nice.
He starts to nibble on my bottom lip, slowly parting my lips, seeking entrance. I grant it to him.
Our tongues dance a tango for a matter of minutes before the rational part of my brain kicks in again.
What am I doing? Wasn't I just with Mimi? Wasn't I just about to leave? Didn't Angel just die? Wouldn't starting a relationship with him at a time like this be a little selfish?
I stop myself at the word. Wait, relationship? I say the word over and over in my head. Relationship. Relationship. Relationship.
First, how do I even know that that's what he wants? One second we're crying, the next second we're kissing. That doesn't mean he wants me, that he loves me. Second, when the hell did he start liking guys anyway? Last time I checked, Collins, Angel, and I were the only "fags" around and he was still hung up over Maureen.
I don't know how many minutes have gone by before I break away. I'm gasping for air; we both are actually.
He pants and covers his mouth before he speaks. "Oh my god, Roger..I'm so.."
"You're gay?" I come out and say before he has a chance to finish.
He stares at me, obviously deciding whether or not to lie to me, "Kinda," he says, choosing honesty.
"Oh," I reply softly. I want to say more, go at him with a barrage of questions, but I can't find the words. I try concentrating on moving my tounge, but he beats me to it.
"I guess I'm bi. I don't really know. Never really thought about it before. I just..I just know what I like, I guess." He says modestly, never once making eye contact.
I chuckle, "Me too," is all that leaves my lips before lifting his chin to kiss him again. He returns it in full force obviously wanting this as much as I do.
He pushes me back onto my bed, knocking over the duffle previously sitting there. Clothes were now spread all across the floor, but I could care less. He kisses me deeper, slowly unbuttoning the buttons of my shirt, revealing my bare chest. It seems there will be more clothes to add to the pile on my floor, but I'll get to that later.
I awake to a naked form next to my body, holding me tightly. I'm startled a little but when I run my hands over his, I remember.
I sigh, smiling, remembering the events of last night.
Fucked would be the nasty word to use. You use "fuck" when it's a one night stand. I used "fuck" with the random junkies I met at my shows. But this, what we did last night, was referred to as "love making" because that's just what it was. We were building a love, our love, from the ground up.
I guess it was a little fast to be moving, but I think that by having a friendship like ours, it was okay to move at this pace.
I was never open about what I felt for Mark. Not until now, well, not until last night. I always had an attraction towards him that was just a bit little more than friendly for sure, but he was with Maureen at the time and I would never come between two people. Plus, he never seemed interested in the same sex, and if he was, he was sure as hell good at hiding it.
I never was. I was open if someone asked me because I learned that the world didn't matter a very long time ago. But still, I never told a soul about what I felt for Mark. Not Collins, not Angel, not anyone. I kept it all inside. Every little sexual fantasy that I had, every little love declaration that I prayed for was pushed away to the darker parts of my mind by being with April, and look where that got me.
I tried even more so with Mimi to push him out of my head, but I failed miserably. I wouldn't deny it, I loved both April and Mimi dearly, but they could never replace Mark. They could never replace my best friend, my soulmate, the man that I loved with everything I had.
------
I'm pulled out of the memory by the same door opening. This time he appears with a cup of coffee in hand.
He gives me that chesire cat grin of his that just makes me swoon. I smile up at him.
He sits down again, stress flooding his features instantly. I know he's as scared as I am. My smile fades a little.
"You know," I start, "I was just laying here.. thinking about how we got together. Became a 'thing'. Remember?"
This time his grin is turned into a full fledged smile. "How could I forget?" A soft chuckle leaves his lips, "You fought me, cried with me, kissed me, made love to me and finally.. you loved me." He grins sheepishly, a faint red filling his cheeks.
A pause fills the air.
"When did you know?" I ask suddenly. It's been a question that's been lingering in my head since that day. I wondered when he knew he fell for me, but I just never had the courage to ask.
That is, until now.
He nods, understanding flooding his features, "The night of Maureen's protest. I guess I knew before then, just didn't ever really admit it though. But when I saw you and Mimi walk out the back door of the Life Cafe, I was happy for you sure, but I couldn't ignore the pang of jealousy that overwhelmed my body," he pauses, looking down at the black liquid in his cup before reverting his eyes back to me. "So yeah, that night. I knew."
I smile widely, whispering to him, "Come here." I softly pat the free bed space next to my right thigh.
He gets up from his chair and walks over to my bedside. He sits down and I grip my hand around his collar, pulling him into a kiss. My heart is soaring. We've kissed countless times over the past year, but just something about this kiss is lifting me up to Cloud Nine and beyond.
We break apart and smile at eachother.
"I love you. You know that, right?" I tell him.
He chuckles and smirks. "Well, you better." The sly look on his face fades and a more gentle one appears. "I love you, too."
There goes my heart soaring again. I smile, pressing my palm to my chest. I feel my heartbeat begin to quicken. The effect this boy has on me.
But, it's starting to hurt a little now..
All of a sudden, rapid beeps are coming from my heart monitor. "No, this can't be it," is all I can think.
I look over at Mark to see his eyes widen. He leaps from his position at my bedside to holler out the door.
"Doctor! We need a doctor in here!" He yells, fear apparent in every inch of his voice.
He hurries back over to me, clutching my free hand. "Everything's going to be okay, Roger," he says quickly, knowing that these may be the last words I hear.
Which, they are.
I nod a negative. "No, it won't. I...I'm..Goodbye, Mark," I say, almost breathlessly.
A finale breath escapes my lips and I feel my head roll over to face the March skies I faced earlier.
His screaming, his crying, I hear it. Doctors rushing around me, I hear them.
But then, everything goes white.
END
A/N: Did you like it? I know, I know. I made Roger die, it was hard for me to do because I like Roger. But I had to do it. I'd rather kill off Mimi or Benny though. Aha. Okay, enough of me being mean and holding my grudges against characters. Comment:D