Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the lyrics used in this story.
"Take your AZT," Mark said as he wrapped his scarf around his neck.
"I'll remember," Roger said, annoyed, "I'm not five, Mark."
And the filmmaker laughed softly, "Sorry, force of habit."
Roger shook his head as he continued to strum his guitar, thinking of the next great song he'll write. One that he knew would be worth all his effort in the end.
He heard the loft door shut and softly sang the words he dare not let his roommate hear yet. This song was different. It was a thank you and he thought that it made the song all the more special. No point in ruining the surprise by letting Mark hear it before it was even done.
"Maureen, calm down," Mark's voice was concerned, "Just explain to me what happened."
Roger rolled his eyes from his place on the couch.
Maureen was sitting at the kitchen table, completely hysterical, hands waving wildly in the air as she tried to explain her problem. The problem was that Joanne was meeting some girl named Lucy at a nice, upscale restaurant.
"How come she never takes me to nice places like that?" Maureen asked, on the verge of tears, "What's Lucy got that I don't?"
"Maureen, I think you're blowing this out of proportion," Mark calmly tried to reason, "Joanne would never leave you for another woman."
"But what if she has a nicer ass? Or is better than me in bed?"
"Oh god," Roger groaned as he got up, walking toward his room, "Let me know when the drama's over."
Closing the door to his room, Roger climbed onto his bed and picked up his notebook, trying to write the last few verses he needed to complete his song. It was so close to being done that he could see himself performing it already.
Now if only he could get the band together for a reunion soon.
"Thanks for helping out, Joanne," Mark said as he walked into the loft, face red from the cold, "How's he doing?"
"He's doing better," Joanne answered from the couch, "He's Collins, he'll be better before the week is out."
Mark laughed, "I know he'll be up on his feet in no time, but I just want to make sure he's comfortable."
Roger tried to tune out what the other two in the room were saying as he chewed on the end of his pen. If only the right words would fit together. He was certain that things would all fall in place once he finished writing.
"Hey, Mark," Joanne started, very casually, "Do you think you can teach me how to take care of Maureen's equipment? She wants me to be her production manager and I don't know if I can handle it."
"Well, if you want, we can co-manage and I'll teach you a few things along the way," Mark offered.
"That would be great," the lawyer answered, "I won't have to look after a hyped up Maureen all by myself."
And the two laughed. Roger let out a sound of frustration as he got up and walked to his room. He wondered why it was that people couldn't just be quiet.
"Roger?" Mark asked, "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Give me a second," Roger answered, waving his hand passively. He was on the phone with one of his band mates, trying to set up a gig and showcase his new song.
"Roger, it's kind of--"
"Mark, please!" the musician snapped, "This is kind of important!"
"Right…" Mark mumbled as he walked away.
As Roger went back to speaking on the phone, happy that everything was falling into place. His new song was done, completed and his band mates were all up for a reunion show. Things couldn't be better.
"Hey, where's Mark?" Collins asked as he stepped into the loft.
"I don't know, probably out filming," Roger answered, tapping his pen on the coffee table as he thought out the band's set list.
"That's a cold answer, man," the professor said as he sat down on the couch opposite of Roger, "I mean, he takes the time to ask where you are."
"I'm either here or with Mimi," the musician shrugged, "He knows that."
"Yeah, but he still asks you where you're headed. Maybe you should ask him once in a while."
"He's fine, he likes filming by himself anyway. Why would he want his friends sneaking up on him while he's getting his next movie done anyway?"
"I don't know. It just shows that you care."
"He knows I care."
"Alright."
And Roger went back to his set list, not quite caring why Collins even brought up the subject.
"Hey, Roger?"
"What?" Roger snapped, closing his notebook as he looked at his roommate. He was so close to getting his set list done.
Mark just smiled calmly, "I was wondering if you had taken your AZT yet."
"Yes, mother," the musician rolled his eyes and threw his notebook onto the floor, "Is that it?"
"No, Mimi's at the door and she's wondering if you guys will be going out for your anniversary tonight or not."
"Anniversary?"
Mark looked amused as he leaned against the doorframe, "Your two year anniversary?"
"Oh, fuck!" Roger slapped his forehead, "I completely forgot."
"I knew that'd be your answer," the filmmaker laughed as he walked over to Roger's bed, "That's why I took the liberty of picking this up."
A long rectangular black box was placed on the bed and Roger looked up, confused for a moment. Slowly, he picked it up and opened it up. The necklace gleaming at him in all its silver and diamond glory made his jaw drop. It was the exact thing he had been thinking of getting Mimi.
"Roger? Mark?" Mimi's voice drifted in, sweet and polite, "Are you guys still there?"
"We'll be right out!" Mark called before turning to Roger and asking, "Well? Are you going or not?"
"You are…"
"What's taking so long?" Mimi asked from the doorway, her voice caused Roger to jump and hide the box behind his back, "You're not dressed yet?"
"You know Roger," Mark smirked, "He takes longer than you do to get ready."
Roger gave Mark a shove before climbing out of bed, "I'm set to go."
And with that Roger and Mimi headed out the door. It wasn't until later, when he had handed the small rectangular box to Mimi, that Roger realized he hadn't thanked Mark for helping him out of a tough spot.
I have to thank him, he thought. And though he was ready to leave and go tell his roommate how grateful he was, Mimi's hand on the back of his neck quickly dissolved the thought and all that mattered was Mimi and her petite body against his.
The phone was ringing.
Roger jolted awake and fell to the floor. With a groan he pulled himself up as a very amused Mimi looked down at him. He rolled his eyes and looked over at the phone questioningly. The dancer simply shrugged before getting up and answering it.
"Hello?" a short pause, "Oh yeah, he's here. Hang on. It's for you, Roger."
Roger walked over and took the phone, "Hello?"
"Hey, Roger, it's Greg," the person on the other end said, "You told me to call you here if the machine picked up at the loft."
"Oh right, what's up?"
"The guys want to move the gig to tomorrow night, do you think it's okay?"
"Yeah, five days down the road was too long of a wait for me anyway."
"Alright, cool. That was all I wanted to ask. I'll see you at practice."
"See you then."
Roger yawned as he put down the phone. Mimi threw her arms around his neck, placing a kiss on his cheek. The musician smiled and kissed the girl back, holding her close. He couldn't imagine anywhere else he would rather be. Life was good and he had proof.
When Roger returned to the loft, there were three messages waiting for him. Mark was nowhere to be seen and since his camera was nowhere in sight, he assumed that his roommate was out filming. Pushing play on the answering machine, he sat down on the couch.
Beep.
"Roger, it's Mark. Pick up." Pause. "Okay, so maybe you're still out with Mimi. Hope you're having a good time. And please spare me the details of your night when I get back. I'll see you soon. Take your AZT."
Typical, Roger thought as he smiled.
Beep.
"Hey, Rog! It's Greg. Okay, so you're not home. I'll try your girlfriend's place, so… uh… disregard this message?"
Beep.
"Hello, this is Dr. Greene calling for a Roger Davis. This is an urgent message regarding a Mr. Mark Cohen. Please call me back at…"
Roger was already on his feet, his hand reaching for a pen to scribble down the number on his hand.
Roger felt absolutely numb as he entered the loft, holding Mark's camera and messenger bag. Once the door closed, he dropped to his knees and started crying for the first time in years.
The doctors said it was traumatic arrest, a condition in which the heart ceases to beat due to trauma to the chest area involving the heart. They said the object in question was probably a lead pipe. Blows repeatedly to the chest caused ribs to break and cave inward, puncturing lungs and causing internal bleeding. It might have been before the final blow was dealt when Mark's heart had stopped beating, but no one knew for sure.
It was certain that he suffered.
In the months after Mark's funeral, things just seemed to fall apart. Maureen and Joanne could no longer keep their relationship stable. Maureen was always speculating, always raving, wondering why Joanne was out with business partners. Joanne couldn't handle operating Maureen's equipment on her own and several shows had to be delayed and rescheduled because of wiring problems. The drama queen eventually drove the lawyer to move out.
Collins stopped going to the loft and called in once in a while just to see how things were going. Roger decided to move in with Mimi, unable to have an entire loft to himself, memories and ghosts from the past haunting him every waking moment.
After paying for the funeral, Benny lost all contact with any of them. They no longer heard from him not even for the rent. The last Roger saw of him was when he stopped by to say sorry and to drop off a piece of footage that Mark had left with him. He had told Roger to watch it when he could, saying that it was important.
It was weeks later before Roger could work up the courage to take out Mark's old projector and load in the reel. Years ago Mark had taught him how to use the thing and he was glad. He wanted to know what was so important that Benny had to keep it safe.
Alone in the room he shared with Mimi, Roger watched as different cut scenes flickered on the wall. Then he saw Mark, sitting in their old sofa with his guitar in hand.
"Hey, Roger," Mark's image greeted, "I know you'll kill me when you find this, but I thought it'll be okay if I keep it my secret for now."
A chord played out clear and tuned.
"Bet you didn't know I could play guitar," Mark said, laughing softly, "It's okay. I'm not that good anyway." A long pause. "I wrote you a song, Roger. It's for… when… well… you get the point, I'm sure."
Roger knew what he meant.
"I'm going to make a fool out of myself, but it's okay because this is for you."
And slow chords began to play as Mark's soft voice began to sing.
I'm up here on my own again, Flying away, Turning my face away again,
I'm always on my own
They don't know anything at all,
They see just what they want
Can't they see I'm not really here?
I'm back there with you
Wish I could say you will be there tomorrow and always
Just have to go,
Wish I could know you will always remember me now and always
I'm always turned away
Wanting someone to talk it out,
Without you always
A wrong chord was struck and Mark stopped singing, "It really wasn't that good anyway."
"No, it was," Roger spoke before realizing no one could hear him.
"Roger, the reason, the real reason I'm doing this is to confess something," Mark said, putting down the guitar and leaning forward in his seat, "I know that we have this saying now. No day but today. But it's so hard to do things when you know one misstep can ruin everything."
A long silence.
"You are so happy, Roger and I don't want to ruin that for anything. Maybe, one day, when the time is right, I'll show you this."
A shaky breath drawn.
"I love you, Roger Davis."
And Roger felt something tug painfully at his heart.
"I'm sorry."
Mark's image got up from the sofa and walked closer. Roger knew he was going to turn off the camera, but he still wanted to reach out and touch his friend. He wanted to pull Mark to him and tell him that it was all right and he didn't need to apologize.
"God, this is so stupid. He'll never see it anyway. Probably die before--"
The images disappeared, leaving Roger with a painful ache in his chest. And he realized just how much he wished Mark would walk through the door and tell him to take his AZT.
Author's Note: The song used was "Always" by Anthony Rapp. Please leave a review or anything you want really. Thank you for reading!