Each chapter I will try to give a small summary of what is happening onstage at the moment in question, but I might be a little off at times
Roger has just left to go work upstairs, Mimi is centerstage singing, Maureen is stage right on a chair, back to Joanne, at the table. Stage left is Angel, lying on a bed with a hospital sheet over it, with Collins by him, sometimes holding him sometimes standing back. Mark is on a chair in the far stage left corner.
Mimi curls up on the floor. The small bag of white powder burns into her forearm. She knows that the plastic bag is really ice cold, as her arm is, as her mind is, as her heart is. The cold has her rocking back and forth on the floor, waiting for warmth to return. No, she realizes, she is rocking from the tears pouring down her face. Waiting for him to return. Which he will do, she knows, the rock god, crying but pretending not to, gasping out promises that he will be with her more, not abandon her to Benny. Benny. What a laugh. She wishes it were Benny who was pulling her away from Roger, then she would have someone to hold her and give her warmth. God she was so cold. So cold. No god. No warmth. No him.
Roger sits on the couch. He plucks at his guitar. Winces as the notes to reach his ear remind him of Mark's snores. Wait, those are Mark's snores. Huh. He thinks that he should probably tell Mark that he is here. Another pluck at the guitar. Why does it seem like no noise is being emitted from the instrument? What's that faint buzz in his ear? Shit, the room…spins…no air…no thoughts…no her.
Mark lies in bed. He hears the painful notes through the paper thin walls. He knows he should go out, let Roger know that there is someone there for him who will not abandon him. Mark would never let him down. But for someone who is so afraid of abandonment, how quickly Roger leaves behind the ones he loves the most. Who need him the most, Mark corrects himself, Roger would never let him say they loved each other. It would be misconstrued. Bastard. Mark lives because of Roger. Roger is his one link to the real world. He reminds Mark what happens when a person leaves the world. They hear nothing, they feel nothing, and they give nothing. They lie in bed. Mark thanks every god he can think of, from Allah to Elvis, that Roger found Mimi. He curses every god he can think of because she is killing him. Hanging pronoun. Killing Roger, he means. He thinks he means. A thump echoes through the room. Roger's guitar, most likely. A fender bender, Mark thinks with a smile reminiscent of a time long past.
Maureen collapses on a pile of torn up clothes. Costumes, she thinks sarcastically is what she should call them. She looks around scornfully at the remnants of her temper tantrum. Asking for attention doesn't work so well when no one is in the room. And no one will be, for a long time. She loves Joanne, really she does, more than anyone can understand. But, goddess, the pain that comes with that love, the worries that anything less than perfect will displease the beautiful, amazing, more-than-human who has stolen her heart. She knows it's stupid, that she is deliberately being less than perfect so that when she is broken again she can say why instead of knowing deep down that she is just not good enough. This way she can pretend—pretend. That's what she's good at, right? Pretend that her protests do good, pretend that she means something, pretend that if she was herself, maybe someone could love her back.
Joanne stares at nothing. Her desk is covered with papers. Disgusting. She should clean it. But that mess, it's comforting. No, no, its not. That can't be right. She likes organization. Right? Knowing where everything is, that's what makes her feel safe. But safe isn't what she wants, is it. She knows its not. She wants confusion, not knowing what the next day will bring. The thrill of trusting another person to lead her. Of leading another person, with no destination. She looks down at the laptop that has been tilted to the side because of the piles of papers underneath it. On the screen, what should be a list of responsibilities for her intern has become something very different. There are 10 items. The first: excitement. The last: I love her.
Mark lies in bed. The silence outside his room is disconcerting. But at least it lets him turn his mind to other things. It takes him a moment to realize he doesn't know what other things to turn to. For the longest time he would imagine scenarios in which Maureen had run to him crying, needing comfort because she had just broken up with Joanne. A few times his imagination had taken him to a strange picture of Joanne in Maureen's place. And beyond his imagination, in his dreams…a blush appears on Mark's face. One of the best side effects of Roger staying downstairs is that he usually doesn't have to worry about the smirks in the morning. Or the embarrassing (accidental, of course) wake up in the middle of the night. Although, having a roommate barging into the fantasy is a quick way to get rid of an…awkward friend.
Angel sits up in bed. A tired smile rests on her face. She gazes at the face across the room from her. Her hand rises to her own face, reaching for a lock of hair to twirl before she remembers the façade the hospital insisted on. Her face falls into a pout, but only for a moment. As long as her lover sits across the room from her, as long as he will always be there sitting across the room from her, she will be okay. Well, not okay, but not afraid to be un-okay. A true pout plays on her lips now. Collins has been wincing every time she says something along those lines. He knows that she is dying. Angel suppresses a shudder—not at the thought, but at the absence of feeling that accompanies the thought nowadays. He knows she is dying. Why doesn't he accept it? Angel knows that Collins is scared, but that fear is leaking into their time together. She only has so much time left, and she wants to spend it with her lover, not the fear that has been coming between them.
Collins dreams. Not in his sleep, this is dreaming that he has forced upon himself. He imagines what life will be like when Angel is gone. The picture nearly brings him to tears right then and there. Next he imagines her still here, but not. The way she is going. So far, she has been staying upbeat, staying herself, but every so often she melts. He doesn't know how else to describe it. She melts away, and all that is left is a shell that doesn't recognize him, doesn't hear him. At those times, he simply runs. He stays away for days, and when he returns the hurt on her face breaks his heart into a million pieces. It also scares him. Terrifies him. Because in a few months, weeks if he stops kidding himself and looks at reality, that hurt will be on his face. Because she will have left him. And unlike him, she will never come back. He is shocked to realize that he is jealous. Jealous that she gets to leave first.
Mark lies in bed. He thinks about the last time he visited Angel. He knows that Angel doesn't have much time left. She's dying. And Collins is dying with her. It's incredible, really, that just one year brought his friends back to life, and that same one year killed them. Collins won't last long without Angel. Mark knows this, but doesn't know this. He knows it is true, but still pictures his movie premiere, years from now, with Collins at his side, grinning and laughing as their lives play out on the screen in front of them. And each time this picture appears in his head, even now, he still needs to take the time to edit out Angel from Collins other side. She has become a fixture in his film, and therefore in his mind. Erasing her from their future sets his heart racing. He loves her, they all do, but it's more than that; her leaving will begin the end. Collins will follow her, and Mark's life will unravel faster than his film can roll.
Thanks for reading this, it means a lot. I have a lot of work right now, so updates will be slow, but reviews always inspire me to write more...