Title: Fix You
Pairing: Mark/Roger
Rating: PG-13 for language and some situational content
Summary: one night in early December after Roger returns from Santa Fe, he comes into Mark's room, afraid that he will never see Mimi again.
Warnings: ANGST! ANGSTANGSTANGST! And, you know, guy-on-guy action. If you don't like that, you're crazy, but hey. Just don't read it.
A/N: I've not yet decided whether this is a one-shot or if I should write more for it. Any ideas? Please comment. Could use constructive criticism on this one.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. The late, great, Jon Larson does. Lucky guy.
lj-cut Maybe it was that Roger was so afraid that he would never see her again, that those sparkling brown eyes would never peer at him through the moonlight again. He was lonely and hanging onto his existence by a guitar string. The night he came into Mark's room was in early December, and Mark was lying on his back, half-asleep, Mimi's disappearance plaguing his mind. Losing her hadn't only been a blow to Roger. Watching someone who was so alive drift away from them had been hell on every single one of them, and especially Mark. Roger meant so much to him and since Mimi meant so much to Roger, it was so trying that Mark couldn't make his best friend happy. Every night for the past two weeks, Mark had spent the nights lying awake in bed, his eyes on the ceiling, his mind working fiercely in search of new ways to look for Mimi.
Mark jumped when he heard his door pushed open, turning on his side to look to the doorway. Roger was standing there, looking stormy, weak. Mark reached for the old lamp sitting next to his bed and flipped it on, looking into Roger's shadowed face. For a moment, they were silently locked in each other's gaze, and finally Roger spoke tremblingly.
"What's the time?" he asked shakily.
Mark shrugged, he didn't have a clock. "It's gotta be close to midnight."
He realized that, for some unknown reason, this caused a great shift within Roger. His friend staggered a bit, his face screwed up as he tried not to cry, and Mark jumped out of bed to catch him as Roger nearly collapsed. The guitarist was heavy, Mark noticed, and he had to lean against the wall to keep from falling himself. Suddenly, he felt Roger shaking harder than ever as he buried his face in Mark's small shoulder. He was sobbing.
"Roger? We're going to go over to the bed, okay? Move your legs." Roger looked up at him, his face reddened and tracks of silvery tears down his stubble-coated cheeks. Mark was stunned to see his friend's normally blazing green eyes turned to ice. Somehow, Roger managed to move himself across the room with Mark's help, and collapsed onto the bed, curling into a ball there. Mark climbed over him and into the bed, stroking Roger's hair gently as he sobbed. This was quite a surprise. Sure, Roger had been more than his normal surly self lately, but the last thing the scrawny filmmaker had expected was for his friend to come crawling into his room in the middle of the night, crying. All Mark could do was gently touch the back of Roger's neck, whispering into his ear.
"Roger? Listen. We're going to find her."
Roger rolled onto his other side, looking up into Mark's face. Bits of his light brown hair stuck to his cheeks and he was gasping for breath, looking into Mark's face. "But what if we can't?"
Mark was surprised even in himself for what he did next. He looked into Roger's face and wrapped his arm around his best friend, holding his head close to his own shoulder. Mark whispered quietly into Roger's ear, "Then at least we'll still have each other."
Roger didn't have the emotional stability to look surprised. He simply looked up at Mark, half-asleep and out of his mind with pain. And then something took over Mark. Maybe it was the feeling that he needed to help his friend, that he wanted nothing more than to make Roger feel better, to feel anything. But he leaned in and brushed his lips against Rogers'.
When Mark leaned back again, settling himself beside Roger, his friend was staring at him in surprise, his tears gone from the shock. Mark felt himself turning red. Shit, he thought. What did I just do?
And then Roger's mouth was on his again. This time for longer, Roger weakly wrapped his arms around Mark as they kissed passionately. When Roger released Mark once again, Mark looked into his the guitarist's eyes, seeing the hollowness of the dark pupils, as if he was looking into the empty soul of his best friend. "I wish I could make you happy again," Mark whispered, wrapping his own arms around Roger.
"I'm never going to see her again, Mark," Roger whispered shakily. He didn't cry this time, only spoke. "I ran away from the love of my life, and now I'm never going to get it back."
"No, no, we'll find her, Roger," Mark said desperately, but Roger cut him off. "Mark, she's gone," he said fiercely.
"But I can bring her back," Mark cried, pulling roger closer to him. He felt a dam breaking inside of him as he looked into Roger's face, watching the darkness creep into the features of the only person he had ever truly loved, not passionately or romantically, but deeply and truly in a way you could never love a partner. He couldn't bare knowing that he couldn't do anything for Roger, because he needed to. Suddenly, tears filled his eyes. "I need to bring her back for you."
The held each other like that for a long time, arms wrapped tightly around each other as they both cried. Finally, Roger pressed his lips against Mark's again and they kissed, long and hard, and Mark finally pulled away, looking into his friend's eyes. "I just wish I could fix you."
Roger was speechless at this. He just held Mark tightly, and after an hour longer of sobbing, they fell asleep together that way. /lj-cut
Cross-posted to lj-user "rentfic" , lj-user "below14thstreet" , lj-user "fuckingartists" ,