This was sitting in my word processor for the longest time, unfinished and untitled. I started listening to 'Over It' from the NYTW and decided to turn this fic into that. I didn't go word-for-word, but it gets the job done. It's kinda sucky. Let me know what you think!
You'll Get Over It
Mark ran quickly, his heart thumping madly in his chest and his breath coming in gasps. His worn shoes hit the pavement with force. Roger was quite a few steps behind him, taking his sweet time.
"Roger!" Mark shouted as he turned to face his best friend. "Could you move a little faster? I'm late as it is!"
Roger picked up his pace slightly, but not very much. Mark rolled his eyes and continued on; knowing that Roger was only doing that to annoy him, and it was working.
Finally, after a run-in with a stray cat and a bunch of rolling fruit, Mark made it to Maureen's performance space. He stood in front of the entrance, looking up at the decrepit building. It had only been yesterday that he was here, and he was back. Yesterday. When he'd met Maureen's new girlfriend. When they'd tangoed.
"Are you going in or what?" Roger asked as he walked up behind Mark.
Mark took a deep breath and stepped inside, followed by Roger. At first he thought it was empty, but then he noticed Maureen and Joanne, standing on the stage, bent over Maureen's equipment.
Maureen looked up as Mark entered. She pushed her dark brown curls out of her eyes and smiled. "Marky!" she exclaimed, running towards him and embracing him tightly. Mark saw Joanne roll her eyes and fold her arms, looking miffed.
"The equipment is broken again," Joanne explained. Mark sighed as he broke away from Maureen and made his way to the stage. He flicked a few switches. "Try the mic," he said.
"Test 1, 2 3!" Maureen squealed into the microphone. Mark cringed, and Maureen giggled. "I forgot, you hate when I do that." Mark ignored her and began to unplug a few things here and there, but to no avail.
"Why did I have to get the defective equipment?" Maureen sighed dramatically. No one responded. The ring of Joanne's cell phone broke the silence. "Hello? Oh, hi Steve. Um...Sure...I'll be right there." Joanne hung up her phone, looking gloomy. "Honeybear, I need to go into the office for a little bit. I'll be back soon," she said, pecking Maureen on the lips and hurrying out the door. Maureen sighed, and then turned her attention to Roger.
"What are you doing here?" she squeaked, running over to embrace him as well.
"I don't know..." Roger replied, looking a little surprised at Maureen's outburst.
"You finally got out of the house! That's great!"
Roger raised an eyebrow. "Thanks." He turned to Mark. "I think I'm...gonna go..."
Mark nodded, currently tangled in wires and attempting to figure out where they were all supposed to be plugged into. He heard Roger's footsteps echo throughout the empty performance space.
It was then that Mark realized he and Maureen were alone. They hadn't been alone together since they'd...since she'd dumped him. Mark plugged in a few wires, wincing at the awkward silence that had fallen between them. He hated awkward silences. "Tell me what it's like," he spat suddenly.
Maureen looked startled. "What?"
"With a girl. Tell me what it's like for a girl, and a girl," Mark wanted to know if it was any better than being with him. It had to be, he reminded himself, if she left you for a girl...
"No way!" Maureen shrieked.
"Tell me...or I walk away..." Mark put the wires down.
Maureen sighed, with a look on her face that suggested she was trying to find the right words. "It's amazing!"
Mark frowned and fired some questions towards Maureen that he'd been wondering about for a while. "Who's on top? Who wears the pants? Who leads when you dance?"
Maureen folded her arms and frowned.
"Maureen...give me one more chance...please?" he pleaded. "This is just a phase, like girls and horses!" he said, more to convince himself than anything. "You never even wore flannel shirts!" he squawked. "You'll get over it!" With that, he crouched behind the sampler again and got back to work.
The silence had returned.
"How's it going?" Maureen asked after a few minutes.
"Not good, I'm depressed," Mark replied, wondering why on earth she didn't already know the answer to that.
Maureen clicked her tongue impatiently. "I meant the sampler?"
Mark rolled his eyes. "I'm adapting, re-patching."
"You're the best!" she squealed. Mark snorted. "Don't be depressed," she said softly. "Tell me how you've been?"
"Why?" Mark spat.
"'Cause I care-" Mark snorted again. "Tell me how you've been! God, time flies."
"Don't patronize."
"Tell me!" Maureen said impatiently. "We used to be friends!"
Mark contemplated for a second. "I'm lonely, bored, and horny," he said dully.
Maureen clicked her tongue sympathetically. "Is there no one new?" Maureen looked at him over the sampler. "It's not too late, have you even had one date?" Mark shook his head, concentrating on the sampler and avoiding her gaze. "You just need some time, and you'll be fine, Mark." She straightened up again. "Besides, I treated you like dirt. You'll get over it."
Mark chuckled; at least she wasn't denying that she had treated him like dirt. He straightened up and began to flick a few switches on the top of the sampler.
"Just remember what you hate about me," she said. And then she leaned over, with her hands on top of the sampler, her breasts threatening to pop out of her tank top. "Though, it may be hard..." she said seductively.
Mark stopped what he was doing and shouted angrily, "How can you be so content with out me? How can you disregard all we had? All we said?"
"I'm over men!" she interjected.
"All we did?"
"I slept around!"
"...and will again?" Mark looked at her, although still avoiding direct eye contact. "Tell me what you'll do, when you're bored. When you tire of girls." He folded his arms.
"I won't!" Maureen shouted back stubbornly.
"I'll tell you." He looked her straight in the eye. "You'll run back to me."
"Your fantasy," Maureen said, swatting away Mark's comment.
"You always do," Mark pointed out.
"Don't hold your breath," Maureen spat back at him, folding her arms.
"I know your kind. You always change your mind."
"Don't be so blind! Can't you see?" she asked. "All my life I've known who I was meant to be."
"But you never even liked k.d. lang!" Mark added, as though that sealed the deal.
"You'll get over it!" they both screamed angrily.
"This is just a phase," Mark said. "You'll get over it!"
"You just need to get laid, you'll get over it!" she fired back at him. "In time we'll laugh about this!"
"In time you'll beg for my kiss," Mark said, leaning in towards her, with his lips puckered.
Maureen paused and acted as though she was going to kiss him. As they were inches apart, she whispered, "Don't bet on it."
Mark shook his head in disbelief, and pressed a button on the sampler. "Try it now."
"You'll get over it!" she screeched into the microphone, and her voice echoed off the walls. Maureen walked around the sampler between them and threw her arms around him, without realizing what she was doing. Mark accepted the hug, and Maureen groaned aloud.
"I'd call this cause for hope," Mark said feebly.
"I would call this platonic." Mark had been inching his hands slowly towards her ass as she spoke. "Don't grope!" she screeched, breaking the hug and slapping his hand away.
Joanne had entered the performance space and was staring at the two, frowning. "Honey!" Maureen squealed. "You're back!" she looked around and tapped the microphone uncertainly. "Uh...we're patched."
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