Title: Mark's Films
Author: Logan M. (Lozateazer)
Disclaimer: Ha! I wish. They're Jon Larson's.
Summery: Roger POV. Roger discovers some feelings he's never experienced before, and Mark makes a movie.
Notes: I didn't think I'd ever post this, because in my opinion it sucks ass. But that's just me and my little self-confidence issues, plus the fact that this fic sucks ass. It was the first fic I ever finished, and I had only read a few fics before it, and so there are bits and pieces in here where I was being a fic-whore because I didn't know any better. The only reason I'm posting this is to honor the anniversary of RENT opening on Broadway, and the fact that it's my one-year anniversary of being a RENThead. So basically this is sort of a "aww look how I've grown" type of thing…? I dunno. R&R.
Rating: R for language, sexual references, and suicide.
~*~ Mark's Films ~*~
©July 2002
I sighed and crumpled the piece of paper that lay in front of me. "Now, for the million point shot, Roger Davis!" Yeah, it was corny, but it was the best announcer voice I could do. Everybody always said I was much better at the sexy-rockstar voice. But I'm getting off-track. I threw the balled-up paper, missing by a long shot. Luckily no one was there to see me shame my manhood.
Another ball whizzed over my head, landing in the wastebasket. "And the score is Roger Davis zero, Mark Cohen a gazillion!" He giggled, and I turned around in horror, my mouth hanging open. He skipped over; "You don't know how many sleepless nights I've devoted to practicing just for this moment, when I win!" He climbed into my lap, reaching over me. I couldn't help but blush. Not only was Mark's rump right in my face, but his knee was in a rather… inconvenient position. Soon he leapt away, holding his video camera. He switched it on. "So Roger, how does it feel to lose to the little man?"
My face, I knew, was deep red. I shrugged, "I wasn't trying… it wasn't a fair game…"
My filmmaker roommate flipped his camera around so the focus was on him. He leaned in and whispered to his 'public', "He's just a sore loser…"
"I am not!"
"Yes he is yes he is!" Mark giggled again as he recorded me bounding playfully over to him, knocking him over the back of the couch, myself following him. Mark set his camera on the coffee table, forgetting that it was even on. My companion snuggled into the couch, and while doing so making my body press against his even more. "So tell me, sourpuss, what's the matter?"
I sighed, examining his face. Mark was so sweet and carefree. I envied that. "I can't seem to find inspiration…"
Mark locked eyes with me, and my heart began to race. Why, I wasn't sure. "Mimi's not the muse we thought she was, huh?"
Oh god. Mimi. Mimi my muse. Why hadn't I thought of her when I was searching for inspiration? She always supplied it, so why was it now that when I thought of her nothing came except anger? Benny. Her unfaithfulness. My jealousy. The nasty breakups that we had almost daily. Maybe that was why she wasn't the dream she once was.
"…Roger?" I blinked, and realized I hadn't spoken yet. I also hadn't broken my gaze with Mark. I pushed myself off of Mark, stumbling to my room. "Roger?! Roger!" I slammed my door, collapsing into a sobbing heap behind the barrier. I heard my roommate murmur my name once more before sighing in defeat.
***
Once I regained some composure, I climbed under my thin comforter. I was emotionally exhausted. But why? Why did I let myself get so upset over something so small? Mimi. I loved Mimi, or so I insisted. Mimi was fun, sexy, beautiful, loving. I mean, I couldn't trust her as far as I could throw her, but she was good to me, right? And that's what love is… someone who is good to you, and right for you. Wasn't it? And Mark's words, 'Mimi's not the muse we thought she was…' She always had been my muse. So why was it that now instead of her face I was seeing my meek filmmaker's?
I saw Mark climbing over me again, and getting into that spot on the couch where he knew I'd fall on top of him, and those kind, caring words. His beautiful voice, his jerky yet graceful movements, and those times when he did the most adorable things just to make me smile. His untainted powder blue eyes, his soft-as-silk blonde hair, his warm breath, and his loving touch. I gasped as I noticed that my plaid pants seemed to be closing in on me. "FUCKING A! JESUS CHRIST, ROGER!"
My Mark came rushing in, a frightened look on his face. The color drained from my face, and I gathered my blankets around me, hoping Mark wouldn't notice. "Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?"
Shit. Shit shit shit. I averted my eyes from his, looking about as pale as he was. Mumbling, I replied, "I'm fine."
He knew I was lying. As I was about to throw him out, again, he came and sat on the side of my bed. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it pulsing throughout my body. My roommate brushed a piece of hair away from my forehead gently. Dammit, Mark always had a way of making me melt. Wait, wait, wait. Mark? Make me, Roger, melt? But I'm straight! This wasn't supposed to be happening… "You sure you're all right? Not many people go to bed at 3 in the afternoon wearing all their clothes—including shoes—covered in blankets when it's 90 degrees outside…"
Damn. Why was he so fucking smart? So naïve, yet so brilliant. "I had some chills…"
Mark cupped my cheek in his palm briefly. "You're fine. Come on, get outta bed…" He jokingly patted my cheek, before retracting his hand, smiling that precious smile I loved.
Loved? What in the hell was wrong with me? I needed to be alone. I needed Mark gone. "Don't you understand the meaning of NO?!?! LEAVE ME ALONE!!"
My roommate quickly looked away. Damn. Every time he did that I knew the reason. He was crying… "Uh… all right… I'll be… working." And with that he was gone, carefully shutting the door behind him.
I let my head hit the wall behind me, cursing myself. I had a lot of figuring out to do.
***
Later that night I still couldn't think. I needed to apologize to Mark. I always came crawling back… why did he always let me? I didn't know. Stumbling out of bed, I opened my door. Fortunately, my roommate didn't hear me. He had the projector set up, and apparently had just switched it on before I came out. He was snuggled up on the couch, watching quietly. He for once didn't need to narrate it. We both knew it by heart. 'First shot Roger / with the fender guitar he just got out of hock / when he sold the car / that took him away and back…' We watched the film in silence, the deafening silence. Mesmerized, I didn't even hear Mark's sobs.
As the final shot faded away, my talented friend stood, rushing over to the projector. A mixture of love, hate, and depression shone from the normally placid pools that were his eyes. Not even turning it off, he began to rip at the film reel. His screams echoed off the walls of the loft, his bloodied hands still working at destroying his masterpiece. After he had it completely strewn about, he made his way to our desk. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, leaving a crimson streak across the middle of his face.
He had grabbed the scissors, and mutilated it beyond repair. Worn out, he lay in a fetal position on the floor, pulling the dismembered film close to his shaking body.
Dare I speak? I had to do something… After climbing over the discarded pieces of film, I slowly lowered myself to Mark. "Oh, Mark…" He squeezed his eyes tightly. Maybe he believed if he didn't see it, it wasn't real. I took him into my arms, rocking him slowly. My small friend clung to me, grasping my shirt so tightly his knuckles were white.
"It… it's gone, Roger…"
"Shh… I know… I saw." I brought him closer to me, sighing heavily.
Mark adjusted quickly, finding that spot where he seemed to fit perfectly against me. "The family is dead…"
"No, that's not true…"
"Yes it is!" His eyes finally opened, tears welling out of them. "Angel's gone, Collins is gone too, Joanne moved after her and Maureen broke up, Maureen left for LA, and Benny went back to Alison… the family is dead." And as if reading my thoughts, Mark continued, "And Mimi's never around anymore, Roger. She's gone back to Benny."
"W-what?"
"I saw them together last week. I couldn't tell you, I couldn't be the one to break your…" He cut off seeing the tears forming in my own eyes.
I had to change the subject. I had to show Mark I was a big boy and didn't need him holding my hand whenever Mimi ran off with my yuppie sum landlord. "Oh, you're hurt…" His hands had gashes all over them, and there was an occasional slash across his face. Feeling motherly and protective of Mark, as I always did, I began to kiss the wounds on his hands. My best friend instantly relaxed, sighing—or was it moaning?—with relief.
After I had kissed away all the pain on his hands, I paused awkwardly. His face. Should I kiss his face? I wanted to, but… but it wouldn't be very heterosexual of me, now would it? I took a deep breath, and tenderly placed my lips on a cut that flawed his perfect cheek. My filmmaker didn't seem to mind, so I continued. After what seemed like an eternity, the few scrapes on his face had each been kissed. Oh god, my mind was racing, I had to do something to seem straight! I… bit… his… nose. Quickly and playfully, to sort of conclude what I had been doing. "All better!"
Inhaling sharply as if he had been holding his breath, he opened his blue orbs. After an excruciatingly short pause, he smiled. "All better…"
I elbowed Mark, "And remember, I'm still here for you!"
My Mark was… blushing? "Yeah… I guess so…"
"Sounds like someone needs some tea…" I leapt up, trying to seem cheerful, scampering off to the kitchen.
***
Once inside the kitchen, I slammed my fists on the counter, screaming. A soft voice came from the next room, "Roger? You okay?"
"Fine Mark. Just stubbed my toe…" Fuck. Who was I kidding? Not myself, obviously. But what about Mark? Did my sweet, innocent—NO! I couldn't think about Mark that way… I mean, Mark was like a brother to me! I loved him, but not… in that way! A saying someone once told me popped into my head, 'Incest is relative. It's the game the whole family can play!' Oh god… was I seriously considering this? What did this mean? Did I just want a good… NO! If I wanted that, I would go back to Mimi.
Mimi. My Mimi. We were still together. I couldn't act on my feelings while I was still with Mimi… it would crush her! Fuck. What was I doing? I didn't like Mark that way… he was a guy! I was straight! I wasn't able to think about any guy, especially Mark, in that way. The voice in the back of my head sniggered, 'Then why are you?'
Before I could answer, Mark broke my concentration. "Is everything okay?" He looked around, seeing that the tea had not been started. "Um… I'm starting a load of laundry, you want anything washed?"
"No, that's okay…" Mark scampered over to the sink, hooking up the portable washer/dryer his sister Cindy had bought him recently. No matter what she said, Cindy always looked out for her little brother. He turned on the water, added the soap, and it was then that I noticed he wasn't carrying any clothes. Oh no. It hit me like a load of bricks. Mark was going to wash the bloodstained clothes he was wearing!
He pulled off his sweater, "You sure?" He began to remove his pants. Luckily he was wearing his boxers, or I might soon have had some clothes to add. "Roger, what the fuck is up with you? You've been acting weird all day!"
"Nothing. I'm going to take a shower. You can get your tea yourself." I stormed out before Mark could respond.
***
When I got out Mark was sitting on the couch, slowly sipping on the hot liquid that filled his mug. "Feeling better? That was a pretty long shower…"
"Feel great. Nice shower."
Mark furrowed his brow, "Really? But… the washer was running… it must have been freezing…"
'All the better'… "I'm going into my room to make a call."
"Um… okay." I drifted into my room, shutting the door behind me. I never saw Mark pick up the other receiver. I dialed the number furiously. The person at the other end couldn't answer fast enough.
"Jefferson and Jefferson. This is Nikki, how may I help you?"
"Uh… is Joanne Jefferson there?"
"No sir, I'm sorry. She's on vacation. Would you like to speak to Mr. Jefferson?"
"Uh… okay…" It was a moment before I was connected.
"Harold Jefferson here. What do you want?"
"Uh, hi Mr. Jefferson. My name's Roger Davis. You don't know me, but I'm a friend of Joanne's…"
"What do you want, Mr. Davis?" He was obviously pissed.
"I was wondering if you could tell me how I could possibly get in contact with your daughter…"
"Sorry, she's in New York. Won't be back for a week."
My heart lifted. Joanne, here? "Do you know where she's staying?"
"Look, Mr. Davis. I don't know who you are or what you want with my daughter. I'm a very busy man, and I don't have time for this. Good day, Mr. Davis." He… hung up on me? That jerk… I slammed down the receiver, growling.
"Mark, I'm going out. Don't wait up for me." You could see the hurt look on Mark's face, but I ignored my feelings again.
A feeble voice replied, "Night Roger…"
I paused, my hand on the doorknob. I turned back, watching him all curled up into a small, frightened ball. Oh, how I wanted to take him in my arms and ask forgiveness from my love. But… I had to find Joanne. "Night Mark. I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well…" Sighing in defeat, I made my exit.
***
"Well, Roger, it's obvious."
"Really?" It was just like Joanne, knowing exactly what the problem was. I had found her at the Life Café, looking particularly lonely. I was willing to bet she thought I had died from the look on her face when I approached her. No, she would have known… Mark has her on speed-dial. Maybe she just didn't want to see me… I never knew what that woman was thinking.
"Yeah, I mean… you love Mark."
"Well, of course! He's my best friend!"
"Let me rephrase that… you're in love with Mark."
"No… It's not possible… I'm straight!" I laughed nervously. What else was there to do?
"That's what I said the first time I fell 'in love' with a woman. Roger, honey, from what you've said the only thing stopping you is that one little word. Straight. There's no such thing, Rog. There's only love. Right now, you happen to be in love with a man. No big deal." No big deal? No big deal?! I opened my mouth, ready to yell, when she continued, "How is everyone? Mark, Mimi, Maureen… everybody…"
"Um… well, Maureen's moving up in the ranks. As soon as you left she fell in love with some director guy from Hollywood… and went back to California with him. I don't know how Mimi is. We're still technically together, but from what I've heard she's been spending all her time with Benny. And Mark…" I paused, taking only enough time to look at Joanne's puzzled face, "Mark's not to good… today we had a bit of an episode… god, that was only today… feels like forever ago…" I hung my head, trying to get back on track, "He ruined his film." I smiled softly, "But I already told you that… oh, what else… his nightmares have been getting worse… every night, he's plagued by them. He says it's his father, but he never tells me what happens in them…" I looked to Joanne, searching for the answer she didn't have.
"Can I go see him? I've missed you both so much…"
"I… I told him to go to sleep…"
"You know as well as I do Mark doesn't sleep. Let's go." The lawyer paid the bill, being the only one that could afford it, and we headed back up to the loft with me still trying to compute the truth.
***
My filmmaker hadn't moved in the five hours since I had left him. Three hours of searching, two of talking. The only signs that he even had shifted were the mug now sitting on the small table. He sat in the silence, the dark, staring at the wall.
Joanne crept in before me, "Mark? It's Jo…"
Mark turned his head, eyes twinkling in the dark. "JOANNE! I knew he'd find you!" He pounced the woman, knocking them to the ground. I couldn't help but think 'I never told Mark where I was going…'
"Good to see you too, Mark!" She laughed, smiling brightly. It was obvious they were both happier then they had been in weeks.
"I… I'm going to bed. Let you two catch up… night." A chorus of goodnights came from the two, and I went into my room, pressing my ear against the door. I wondered when the change happened. It seemed to happen sometime after Joanne left. Mark called her constantly, and they became great friends. That compared to when she had dated Maureen was like day and night.
I could barely hear Jo, and Mark's voice seemed to have vanish completely. Damn how I wished I could hear what was going on. I knew Mark kept things from me, and Joanne was the one he could tell.
"What?… kissed…?" I could only pick out a few words, but from the sounds of it, it wasn't good. "what… you… do?"
Oh Mark please speak up Mark let me know what you thought I have to know how you feel let me know how you feel. Nothing. After that what Joanne said sounded like gibberish to me, so I eventually gave up and went to sleep. They stayed up all night.
***
When I rose the next morning they were still both gossiping like schoolgirls, Joanne with her coffee and Mark with his tea. I squinted at the light. They had let me sleep in. "Did either of you get ANY sleep?"
"No…" They answered in unison, followed by more giggles.
To tell the truth, I felt hurt. Was Joanne stealing my best friend away from me? "Mark… why don't we have all-nighters anymore?"
His reply was short and harsh, "Because you're always having them. Without me. At Mimi's."
I winced softly at the mention of my girlfriend's name. "Well, that's over now…"
"Does she know this, Roger?"
"I'll have Benny deliver the message next time he comes for the rent." I stumbled into the next room, filling up my favorite mug with the remainder of Jo's coffee. I began to head back to my room, "I'm going to practice."
As I pulled out my Fender and began to tune it. I heard Joanne mumble something about a meeting, then shouted to me a goodbye. After a moment Mark appeared next to me, staring longingly.
"What do you want, Mark?"
"Um… Roger? Show me how to play, please…" His eyes pleaded. I couldn't resist…
"Yeah… sure… Here…" I patted the spot next to me on my bed where Mark could sit. Setting the Fender on the other side of me, I reached, grabbing my acoustic guitar, to bring it over.
Mark reached out for the pathetic excuse for a guitar, and I pulled away. "No… here…" I delicately handed him the Fender.
Holy shit Mark looked like the world was going to end. "Th-the Fender? I… I can't. I don't deserve it…" He slid his fingers along the body of the instrument in his lap.
Think up an excuse. Quick. "Mark, you can't learn on this piece of shit guitar. You gotta learn on the Fender. End of story."
"Oh… okay…" He laughed softly, clumsily imitating the way I've held it before. Right then I wanted to spill my guts. He was so adorable. This tiny, meek filmmaker playing rockstar-for-a-day. "Like this, Roger?"
"That's a start…" I smiled, and placed my fingers on the neck of the acoustic, "Now do this…" Mark failed miserably. "No, no… like this…" I reached over, placing his fingers in the correct places.
"Why do you paint your nails, Roger?"
I shrugged, and answered honestly, "Never really thought about it. Why do you ask? Does it bug you?" I began to pick at my nail. If Mark wanted it gone, it was gone.
"No. I admire it. If I ever did anything like that my dad would call me a fag and beat the shit outta me…"
Fuck. What do you say to that? "I'm sorry…"
"Yeah, me too…"
There was an awkward silence, before I snapped back to reality. "Um… yeah, that's good. Now move them here…" Mark got it on his own this time. "Now here…" After a while of doing this and practicing shifting, Mark was ready. "Now let's hear it."
Extremely out of tune and not even in the right time came the familiar sound of 'Musetta's Waltz' from the amp. It was somewhat basic, and it fit Mark somehow.
Amazingly, he recognized the song. "Oh my god I did it!" He laughed, somewhat bouncing on the bed. "I played guitar!" He laughed, and fell backwards, staring at the ceiling. I carefully took my Fender from him, setting it on the amp, before laying next to him.
"Good job Mark. Maybe later another song?"
"No. I learned guitar, and it was more then I ever expected. I was shocked you even agreed. But the Fender, a real song. I mean, I expected 'Mary had a Fucking Lamb!!' It was perfect."
I still stared at the ceiling, and my imagination got the better of me. I grabbed the Fender, and started belting out the nursery rhyme. "Mary had a FUCKING lamb / FUCKING lamb / FUCK*ING* lamb / Mary had a FUCKING lamb / Who's fleece was white as snow!!"
Mark jumped up, laughing his ass off. Oh it was good to see him smile. But after the laughter died down, we were left with absolute silence. "Hey Roger?"
"Yeah Mark?"
"Wanna know what my nightmare is?"
"Of course…" I put the two guitars away, giving Mark my full attention.
"Well… it really happened, once. A long time ago. Several years…"
I had to interrupt, "But… I knew you several years ago… why didn't you tell me?"
"It was one of the times you had run, but that's not important." He sighed, looking away. I lifted his chin, forcing him to look at me. "I was in Scarsdale, visiting Mom…" We both groaned. Mark's mom is not one of our favorite people. "And… I… told my dad something…"
I moved closer, anticipation building. What? What did he say? "What'd you tell him?"
"I… I…" Mark began to cry. I always did that to him… I always made my filmmaker cry… "This was about a year and a half after Maureen and I broke up…" Oh god, I remembered that time. Mark seemed so lonely then. No matter who I hooked him up with, it led to nothing. Never even a second date. "Well… I…"
"JUST SPIT IT OUT MARK!"
Mark winced. "I told my dad I was gay." What? Gay? Mark? No… I mean, sure, he was effeminate, but he never dated a guy before, never even shown interest. Plus, Mark couldn't be gay… that would mean that a relationship between us might have actually been possible…
"What are you talking about, Mark?"
My filmmaker was getting pissed. He apparently had told quite a few people, and his coming out to me was something he considered dangerous. "I'm talking about me being a flaming faggot!" His face was a scarlet red.
"No…"
Mark stood, getting defensive. "YES ROGER! I'M GAY! ALWAYS HAVE BEEN! MAUREEN WAS A LAST-DITCH ATTEMPT! AND I TOLD MY FATHER, AND DO YOU…" His voice suddenly lowered to a whisper, "Do you know what he did to me? He beat me. He beat me worse then anyone ever has before. And when I came back home bloodied and bruised, there was no one here to comfort me and tell me it was going to be okay. BECAUSE YOU FUCKING LEFT ME AGAIN!" Mark's small hands were balled into tight fists, his nails ripping into his own flesh. "By the time you came back, the bruises had gone away and the cuts had healed. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to hurt me, too… I noticed your attitude to Collins changed after he told you… everyone noticed…" Oh god… did I do that to Collins?
Silent tears streaked my cheeks, and I pulled the exhausted Mark into my arms. "Shh… it's okay… I'm still here… I don't love you any less because you're gay…" I didn't even notice the word love slipping out, "Joanne once told me that there was only love, not gender… I guess she was right…" I smiled softly. Oh my poor confused friend… I wished you could know the truth…
Mark sniffled, curling up with me. Before I knew it, he was asleep. When Mark slept, it was always at the strangest times. His body would just, give out finally. I lovingly kissed his forehead, drifting off soon afterward.
***
"Pizza okay?"
I grabbed the remote, flipping on the TV. News, of course. "Huh? Oh yeah, great…" Another girl kidnapped and killed by strangers. Terrorism attacks. People dying all over. I shut of the television, grumbling softly.
Hearing the noise, Mark emerged. "Anything interesting?"
"No, just the same old thing. Pain all around the world and Mark wearing an apron when he's only making us a frozen pizza for lunch."
Mark blushed, "I'll have you know that in… uh… restaurants, this is a very popular article of clothing!"
"All right, if you say so…" I rolled my eyes, and began to wander around the loft. Soon I found myself in Mark's room, which doubled as his studio. Film reels lay all over, and I glanced at one. It was the newest addition to the pile, from yesterday. The only label on it was the date. I opened the tin, finding it empty. Looking around for the stray movie, my eyes fell upon the projector. It was hooked up. Mark never watched movies in his room! …Did he?
Curiosity killing me, I flipped it on. My gifted friend had shown me how to years ago. The movie started…
"So Roger, how does it feel to lose to the little man?"
Oh god. It was the missing film. Dumbfounded, I sat cross-legged on Mark's bed. I saw everything. The blushing, the curling up on the couch, the stare… Then Mark appeared, alone. His eyes were bloodshot. He was crying, in the living room, the projector just over his shoulder.
"I'm giving up on making movies. This will be my last one. Lately I've only been interested in shooting the things that matter to me. It started with 'Proof Positive', but it's gotten worse over the years. 'Proof' failed miserably, just like everything else in my life. And since no one wants to see a failure, I'm stopping. I'm about to watch it again, but this is going to be the last time anyone will see it. Because then it will be gone forever. My work, my passion, my life will be over. And as… as soon as that's finished with, I'm gonna kill myself… and record it. Maybe they could use a frame of it on the news if they decide to mention I died… which they won't. Either way, I always wanted to die in a movie… now I have my chance." He smiled softly, but it quickly faded, "Roger, if you ever see this, I'm sorry. Remember always that this wasn't your fault. Everyone was leaving us, and so it's my turn…" A quirky grin spread across his face, "Love you, Rog. You were always my best friend… thanks for that…"
After that it jumped to a new scene. The camera was now sitting under the coffee table, aiming at Mark. That must have been why I never saw it. The film ended, and the man I loved was again destroying his treasure. It all seemed to run in slow motion. You could see every little detail so perfectly. You could see him run to the desk, cutting the film to pieces, and finally… on the floor. He was laying there, sobbing, the scissors still in his hand. They were hidden by the sharp pieces of film. He brought the blade to his wrist, and was about to apply pressure when I had scooped him up.
A plate crashed behind me. I turned. Mark stood there like a deer in headlights, the pizza now on the floor. "You… you weren't supposed to see that…"
A wave of emotions flowed over me. Which should I pick? The anger that told me to hit some sense into my friend? Or maybe the compassion that was welling inside of me, telling me to hold him? "You… lied on there…" Mark blinked. I'm sure he thought I was saying he should have killed himself. "…You said it wasn't my fault…"
Mark took a step forward, "It wasn't…"
"Yes. It was. I… always ran away. I never stayed long enough to see you hurt, or let the emptiness of this loft hit me. You did, though. You had all your heartache to deal with, and you added all of mine onto of that. I… I never realized that what I did hurt you…" Mark was about to speak, but I continued, "I never wanted to hurt you. You're Mark. You can't hurt… you have to be the one who makes me feel better when I'm sad, or hold my hand when I'm sick… You need to be happy so I can be happy. It's a twofold path, Mark. One of us needs to be happy, so we can both be happy…"
Mark climbed over to his bed, getting into the same sitting position I was in. He rested his upper half on my crossed legs, sighing softly. "You didn't have to say all of that, you know… that speech didn't make me any happier…" My eyes flitted back up to the screen. There was my broken Mark, full of pain and sorrow, and me, kissing his boo-boos away.
"What does make you happy, Mark?"
His eyes followed my gaze, visibly uncomfortable with that question. "Roger, would you have done that if I had told you that I was… you know… before?"
Closing my eyes softly, I remember how wonderful he felt against my lips, "No…"
Mark tensed. He was afraid, thinking the worst.
"You wouldn't have needed me too… you would be in love with some guy, and not even thinking about killing yourself…"
Mark shook his head, sitting up. "He doesn't exist. I once hoped that I had found him, but it didn't work out…"
What? My Mark, dating a guy? When? "Why not, Mark?"
Mark blushed, "He was straight… and not to mention, in love…"
"Oh…" The walls were closing in on me. I… I needed air. "Let's… clean up that mess…"
"Okay, Roger…"
***
A week passed by. My meek filmmaker had spent most of it with Joanne, that is when she wasn't in a meeting or on the phone with Steve. Some vacation. Myself, well I spent the time writing songs. Yes, that's right, songs. I must have pounded out about 20 songs about unrequited love. And trashed every one. Not only was it impossible for me not to mention the words him, he, his, or Mark, but they all began to sound alike. I was becoming a… boy band. I shudder at the thought.
Benny also came by. I told him to tell Mimi that we were through. That ass called her up right then on his cell and told her. I could hear her yelling from across the room. She never called me back.
Mark and I were now growing closer. I wasn't as afraid to let him in my little bubble, and he wasn't as afraid to open up and tell me what he was thinking. Once this started to happen, I realized what I had been running from all these years. I was running from myself. I was always afraid of committing, and now that Mark was opening up, I realized that he wasn't the type of person I wanted to run from. Once I realized this, I again asked why it was me that I had run from. The answer seemed clear. Because I loved Mark so much and knew it to be so wrong, I refused to let him get close. I refused to let me love him.
I lay stretched out on the couch, my head resting on my hands, pondering life.
My now-not-so-nervous roommate came leaping out of his room, over the back of the couch, landing on top of my chest. "AZT time, gorgeous…"
I couldn't help but laugh. Well, wheeze, because of the pressure on my body. Lately Mark and I had been taking to gay jokes, as sort of a coping device. Maybe if we made it no big deal, just a bunch of fun, it really would be. I opened my mouth, pausing for a minute. When nothing happened I lifted my head, "Well where is it? And what happened to those big leaf fans…? You are my little pleasure slave, no?"
Mark hopped off of me, giving me a playful shove. "No!" He pushed his glasses higher on his nose, which just slid back into their normal resting place. "Now go take your pills!" He thrust his nose in the air, pointing to the door. Damn he was cute.
"Fine, Mother!" I pouted as adorably as possible, stamping off to the kitchen. When I came back, I smiled innocently at my friend. "Now can I be fanned?"
Mark threw himself down on the couch over-dramatically. "Only if you do me first!"
I raised an eyebrow playfully, "Do what?" Laughing, I jumped onto Mark with an "Oof!" Wiggling my eyebrows, I asked him, "Do this?" Before he could reply, I had nipped at his earlobe. A delighted squeal come from my roommate. He wasn't expecting that… Giggling, I pinned his arms to the couch and began licking and sucking at the ear.
"Noooooo!!! Roooooger!!! Doooooon't!! Roger!!! ROGER!!" Mark squirmed about, until I realized he seriously wanted let go.
I slid off my companion, feeling utterly ashamed. "Uh… sorry, Mark."
Mark sat up, wiping his ear off with his sweater sleeve. "It's okay… I think that time the joke went a bit far…"
"Yeah…"
"I… I think I'm going to go call Jo… see if she got back home okay…" He was gone before I could protest. I hurried into my room, picking up my phone. It was my turn to listen in.
"Jefferson and Jefferson. How may I help you?"
"Hey Nikki…"
"Mark! Hi! Let me get Joanne for you…"
As the soft rock played, my mind raced. Did Mark really call Joanne that much?
"Mark? Is that you?"
"Oh thank god Joanne. I need to talk. You got some time?"
There was some inaudible talking, and a door shutting. She had just kicked someone out. "All the time in the world. What's up?"
"Did you get my fax?"
I heard the faint sound of paper shuffling. "Yeah Mark… I got it right here… what is it?"
"I found them in the trash… they're songs…" What? My songs? My secret love songs that no one was supposed to know about?
"I figured as much…" She sighed.
"And… and… just now we were joking around, and he started sucking on my ear…"
"What?"
"Sucking on my ear… I am so scared, Jo… What is wrong with him?"
Don't tell Joanne… it was a secret! Another sigh, "He… he's probably just sad about Mimi…"
"Yeah… I guess…"
"Oh shit. Look, Mark, honey, I gotta go. I'll call you tonight, okay?"
"Okay… bye Joanne…"
"Bye Mark."
I quickly slammed the receiver in it's cradle and grabbed the acoustic. I had to have Mark think I wasn't spying. I began to strum out some song. Nirvana, I think.
As I had suspected, the door cracked open. Mark peeked in, "I'm sorry…"
I flashed a toothy grin, "Don't worry about it…"
Mark smiled, sitting next to me. He poked my side, "You are so fake."
"I am not!"
"Yes you are… think about it… fake grin, fake 'rockstar' voice, fake clothes, even the color of your hair is fake… You have a totally fake appearance."
I wrinkled my nose, knowing Mark was right, "Well at least I don't have fake eyes!" I childishly took his glasses, trying them on. Big mistake. Instant headache. Owie. I grabbed my head, "Owww… how can you wear these?" Mark took back his eyesight, shaking his head.
"I just do." He kissed my forehead, smiling softly, "All better?"
"All better…" I sighed. "Hey Mark? Can… we talk?"
"Sure… what about?"
Tell him tell him tell him! "Uh… on that video you made last week, you… you said you loved me."
"I… I… I…"
"Just shut up and listen to me, Mark. What I want to know is that if you love me so god damned much, why did you want to leave me alone? You know I need you… you're my safety blanket… I can't do this crap without you…"
Tears started to brim in my friend's eyes. "I… I don't know what to say, Roger…"
"Say something, anything!" My eyes pleaded.
"I felt used. You treat me great, but only when it's convenient to you! And for besides this past week, it's been getting worse and worse… if you need me, show me that!"
"But… you said it wasn't my fault…"
Mark sighed, "People lie…"
My heart broke right then and there. I doubled over, "Mark… I… I need to be held…"
"Shit… I'm sorry, Roger…" He took me in his scrawny arms, stroking my hair and kissed the top of my head.
"No, Mark… I'm sorry…"
***
A month passed by quickly. Both Mark and I were constantly working, with the occasional break to talk and mess around. But now the remainder of our little family was gathered together again. An invitation had been sent to everyone who had ever been part of our group, and only one said they'd come. Joanne. She would come at the drop of a hat. Maureen was making a 'movie', Mimi was still bitter, and Benny had to side with Mimi.
The three of us gathered in the apartment, which felt so empty compared to the last time the whole family was together. Collins' funeral. There was Mark and I, Joanne and Maureen, along with Mimi and Benny. Mark now had the projector set up in the living room, the light shining on the bare wall. "I bet you're wondering why I asked you all here. By the way, thanks for actually coming, Jo…" He winked at her, and we all had a good laugh. Mark had been keeping this project of his secret, and I was worried.
Mark continued, "Well I've put together a little something… and tonight, here, right now, is the premiere." The lights were shut off, leaving only the humming of the projector. "Enjoy…"
The film started as Mark squeezed between Joanne and I. The first shot was completely black. The title appeared in white, scribbled lettering. Smiling softly, I regretted ever buying Mark those gel pens. As I read the title, Mark began to narrate the film.
"'The Death of the Family'"
A primitive home video appeared showing two young black boys playing together, arms around each other's necks. "Benjamin Coffin the Third and Tom Collins. They, in a way, were the father's of the family. Growing up next door to each other the two boys were best friends. Both of them had goals in life. These dreams led them to New York."
Another clip, more advanced but still basic. It showed the door of the loft with a bright red ribbon on it, with Benny and Collins entering for the first time. "After they got the loft things worked out great… until…"
Benny's wedding to Alison. We weren't invited. I wonder how Mark got the footage… "Benny married Alison Grey, of the Westport Greys. He moved out, abandoning everything he had ever worked for."
The next clip was of Collins grading papers. "Collins became a professor of Computer-Aged Philosophy. He had a great life, even if a lot of the time it was spent on the streets. He was 'out' basically his whole life, and was never afraid to love. Eventually he succumbed to the awful disease that ate away at him… but not before…"
Then it was just Angel, banging away at his pickle tub. "Angel Dumott Shunard came into his life. Angel taught us to love. There was no one more caring and special then him… err… her. Our special ray of sunshine… she was the first one to go from AIDS…"
Mimi appeared as Angel faded away. "Mimi Marquez is another member of the family who lives life knowing that it could all end if she stopped taking her AZT. A dancer at the Cat Scratch Club, Mimi lives downstairs. She was constantly unfaithful to the ones she loved, just like…"
This clip everyone knew. It was from that fateful Christmas eve that seemed so long ago… "Maureen Johnson. Performance artist, diva, and con artist. She'll do anyone just to get ahead. Occasionally it worked, but her air-headed-ness seemed to get in the way…" I heard Joanne scoff from the other side of Mark, "She moved to LA to be a star after she broke the heart of…"
"Joanne Jefferson." A tightening arose in my chest. What would he say? The clip was of the only thing Mark ever seemed to catch her doing, talking to Steve on her cell. "A lawyer, Jo always was sort of the outsider of the family. Maureen had brought her to us, but we decided to keep her even after Maureen fled. She always has a cheery face and an open ear…"
"For me, Mark Cohen." The camera began to show the sobbing Mark. I shuddered. Why did he have to bring it up again? "Quiet, meek, withdrawn. I don't really seem to have a purpose, but I'm okay with that. I'll just sit and make movies of my friends… they're all that really matter to me… maybe if I film them long enough I can make stupid little documentaries like this so I always have them…"
There was a pause as Mark began to destroy his film once again. "And finally Roger Davis…" My heart stopped beating. Mark was still ruining the film. Where was my clip? I was so nervous. The next words out of his mouth would be his feelings towards me, and I was deathly scared. "My best friend, Roger's always been there for me, even in my worst times. I may seem to be his baby-sitter, always holding his hand, but truth be told… I'm glad that someone I love so much is the one clasping mine."
I saw myself rush over, grabbing Mark in my arms. For once, the movie spoke for itself.
"The family is dead…"
"No, that's not true…"
Mark abruptly snapped off the movie, and flipped back on the lights. Everyone was quiet.
"Bravo, Mark…" Joanne stood, and embraced Mark tightly. "This one will go down in history… or, at least, ours…" She smiled weakly, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I wish I could stay, but I have to catch the redeye back home. I'm sorry. I'll call you soon…" She grabbed her coat, and headed out the door after a few more good-byes.
Mark and I were alone again. He stayed by the light switch, and I was still on the couch. "Mark?"
"Yeah Roger?"
"Will you hold my hand?"
"Of course…" He came over, entwining his fingers in mine. Mark rested his head on my shoulder and we stayed that way, silent and awake, all night.
***
We watched the sunrise off of the TV's glare. "I guess we finally did that all-nighter, huh?"
Mark nodded, still pressed against me. After another long silence, Mark spoke. "Rog, do you remember that night when we had that cutting contest?"
I swallowed hard. "Yeah, I remember… why?" One night, before April, before the heroin, before HIV, Mark and I had a contest to see who could cut himself deeper.
"I still have my scar…" He pulled up his sweater's sleeve, showing me the barely-visible line on his arm. It was no more the a centimeter wide.
"Me too…" I leaned forward, having Mark get off me. Removing my shirt, I lifted my arm, exposing the long, dark imperfection on my side. Gasping softly, Mark traced his fingers along my skin.
"I forgot how bad it was…"
"I've got worse…"
"I know…" He placed a hand on my raised arm, lowering it. Turning it over, he examined the old scars that haunted me. He ran his fingers along those scars, as if to memorize them. "You tried to leave me once, too…"
"I don't want to leave anymore…"
"You better not…" He smiled slightly, on the brink of tears from his exhaustion. Yawning adorably, his eyes fluttered.
"You should rest…"
"But then it wouldn't be an all-nighter, now would it?" There was another pause.
Uncomfortably, I asked, "Where was April?"
"What?"
"In your movie. It was supposed to be a documentary of everyone who was ever in our group, right? …so where was April?"
Mark became stiff, his voice was cold. "April was never part of my family." What the fuck was Mark doing? He knew I loved April… Hell, April had even lived with us. She had killed herself our bathroom. How could she *not* be a part of our family? He continued, "She ruined you, Roger. She was the one who got you into the drugs, and the partying, and she was the one who gave you AIDS. Then after she broke you beyond repair, she left you. That's not someone who would be in my family. No friend of mine would try to hurt you as much as she did, Roger. That's why she wasn't in my movie."
I got off the couch, throwing the filmmaker from me. "Fuck you, Mark."
"ROGER! Don't do this!" He saw me start to pack, throwing the Fender's case over my shoulder. "Don't leave me! Not Santa Fe, not again!"
Growling, I sneered at him, "Fine. Maybe I'll go to Seattle this time. Get farther away from you…"
Fists balled, my dear roommate came lunging at me. Knocking me onto my bed, he began to punch at my chest, screaming at the top of his lungs, "I'M NOT GONNA LET YOU FUCKING LEAVE ME AGAIN ROGER!!!!! I'M NOT LETTING YOU GO!!"
Grabbing his wrists, I looked at him bewildered. Not only had Mark never tried to hurt me before, but he had never tried to stop me from leaving. "Why the fuck not?"
Struggling to free his hands, the small man spewed, "BECAUSE things were just getting good! I was JUST getting to the point where I was HAPPY! And if you LEFT again, I would be back at square ONE! AND UNLIKE YOU, I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING DIE ALONE, ROGER!"
My grasp tightened, making his fingers spread wide, "YOU THINK I WANT TO DIE? YOU THINK I WANTED APRIL TO DIE? YOU THINK I WANTED MIMI TO RUN OFF ON ME? BECAUSE I DIDN'T! THEY'RE THE ONES LEAVING ME ALONE, MARK!" I threw him to the ground. He hit my dresser with a thud.
Working his way to his feet, the one I love sobbed, "I'm still here, Roger. I've always been here. Every time you'd run off, I was still here, waiting for you. If you go this time, I won't wait. Then you WILL be alone…"
Fuck. I stopped packing, just hanging in place. Why did he always have to be right?
"I'm going out for some fresh air. If you're gone, then good riddance. If you're still here…" He cut off, searching for the words, "You won't be. You never are." He limped off, wincing with pain.
***
When Mark came home, he found me sitting on the couch. My bags were sitting next to the door, and my coat was on. I had my arms wrapped around my legs. He didn't move. He didn't say a word.
"Hey Mark… remember when I kept doing that cutting contest all by myself?" I laughed bitterly.
"Yeah Roger… I remember…"
"Did you know those times I never wanted to kill myself?"
Mark sat on the couch next to me, still a bit weary. "Yeah Roger, I knew…"
I didn't look at him, but instead stared ahead. "Outside pain always feels better then inside pain…"
Sighing softly, Mark wrapped an arm around me. I resisted, but he pulled me closer. "I know…"
Arms still around my legs, I slowly pulled back my pants legs, revealing the new, yet already blood-soaked, bandages.
Mark's lip quivered. His eyes always showed me his soul. He was a lost little boy. Before I knew what was going on, he had lowered himself to the new cuts and burns. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as Mark pressed his wet lips against my leg. As he pulled away, his beautiful eyes met mine. "All better?"
"No. The inside pain is still there…" I was shaking violently.
"Shh… come here…" He took me in a tight embrace, at the time seeming so much bigger and stronger then I was.
"I love you, Mark…"
"I know, Rog. You're my best friend, and I love you too… now try and rest… you've… you've lost a lot of blood…"
"No Mark. I… I love you more then that…"
Mark growled at me, "Now is not the time for joking, Roger…"
"I… I…" Tell him the truth! My body was screaming, but I just sighed, "Okay. Sorry…"
***
Knocking on that door was one of the scariest things of my life. Surprisingly, I was invited inside. Everything had changed so much since I had last visited.
"Hey Roger… long time no see…"
"You wouldn't let me see you."
"That's because you had Benny break up with me for you over the phone!" Shit. Mimi was getting angry again.
"Cool it Mimi. I'm not here to talk about us."
She flipped her hair flirtatiously, "Then what *are* you here about?"
"Relationship help. You're the only woman I can talk to about it."
Mimi raised a brow, obviously intrigued. "Go on…"
"There's this someone that I really really like…" Oh good hell. I was going to throw up. The butterflies had eaten away everything in my stomach and now they wanted out.
My former lover jumped up, pointing an accusatory finger at me, "I KNEW IT! YOU WERE CHEATING ON ME!" She began to pace, "For months before we broke up I suspected it… it kept getting worse and worse… then I got BENNY'S call…"
What? Months? She must have been mistaken… I only loved Mark as a brother then… "I didn't cheat, like SOME people… Now just listen to me, Mimi, and don't give me any shit. I'm coming to you for HELP. I really like this person, maybe even love. They don't know, though… what should I do?"
Sitting, Mimi crossed her legs, "Can I believe my eyes? Roger Davis asking me how he should ask a girl out? Oh wait, let me guess who she is… that blonde from the club a while ago? Yeah, she'd give you what you're looking for Roger. Just do what you always do…"
My face was neon. "No… that's REALLY not it, Mimi… I'm talking about serious, the-sex-doesn't-matter type of relationship…"
"What's she got, cooties?"
Closing my eyes, I sighed, letting the words drain from me, "Please stop saying she…"
Upon opening my eyes, I found that Mimi was staring at me. I didn't know it was physically possible for eyes to be that wide… "A… a guy?"
Dropping my head, I mumbled, "Yeah, a guy…" If you don't tell her, she'll force it out of you… "…Mark."
Mimi stood and walked over to the door. "Roger… I… I don't think I can do this…" She was about to throw me out when I fell groveling at her feet.
"Please… I'm so nervous I need support!"
"Oh, okay. That makes it all better. My *EX* comes to my door, plays nice, then tells me that he's gay and wants to boink his roommate… with my help. Sure, Roger… I'll help…" She gave me the most awful look, "Get out."
Tears cascading down my cheeks, I pleaded, "No Mimi! It's not like that! Honest! It's not about the sex… I love Mark! He means the world to me, Mimi… I love him! I love him, dammit! I don't want to fuck this up, and so I need your help…" I wrapped my arms around her legs, pressing my face against her fishnet stockings.
Her booted foot kicked me swiftly in the gut, sending me falling to the floor. Through gritted teeth she ordered me to leave again. I, of course, obeyed.
"Roger?" Mark started to freak as soon as he saw me come in, red-eyed and cringing. "Oh my god… Roger! What happened? I heard yelling…" He grasped my shoulders, giving me a good look over.
I ducked, escaping his hold. "I saw Mimi, that's all…"
"No shit. What the fuck happened down there?"
"Just… catching up." I gave my phony, toothy grin, and made my exit.
At that moment I almost regretted Mark's new-found confidence. He followed me into my room, slamming my door behind him. "Did you hit her?"
I walked to the far end of my room, as if just to separate myself from the filmmaker. "No."
"Then why did she hit you? Why are you crying?"
"She didn't hit me, Mark."
"When you came in you sure looked like it… I was surprised you even were on your two feet… so don't lie. Why did she hurt you, Roger?"
I growled lowly, "We… were… catching… up."
"Roger, since you two broke up you haven't done a goddamned thing wrong. Every night you've been here with me, hanging out. You haven't seen a single girl, you haven't gone to a single party, you haven't even squashed a bug!" Mark laughed softly, taking a step closer. "Roger… you have to tell me… I'm through with you storming off, leaving me without a clue…"
"I went to her for dating advice, and she turned me down. Happy?" I backed further against my wall, finding Mark only coming closer.
"Actually, no. Like I just said, you haven't seen a single girl. You've just been hanging out with me. What did you talk to her about, Roger?" His voice was soothing but demanding, concerned but bold.
I tried to grasp onto the wall, hoping that maybe it would suck me up, get me away from this horrible moment. "LIKE I SAID, DATING ADVICE!"
His voice raised slightly, but it was still considerably lower then my own, "Stop jacking me around, Roger. I want the truth." So close. Too close. Practically nose to nose. His eyes almost level to my own. I must have been slouching… or Mark had grown… but I saw no white rabbit… we weren't in Wonderland.
I opened my mouth, trying to force the words. Nothing. Utter emptiness. I stared into Mark's soul, trying to find the answer. He was so close…
My body quaking, I wrapped my arms around my love, bringing him in for a passionate kiss. At first he tried to pull away, to make it stop, but then changed his mind. I ran my fingers through his hair, over his cheeks, down his back, around his behind. Quickly I began to fondle my best friend, caressing the bulge in his black jeans. Still showering my Mark with steamy kisses, I began to remove his sweater.
As if the reality of what was going on had finally hit him, the man who I loved more then life itself pulled away, staring at me like I was a horrid beast. He continued to back up to the door, "Fuck you, Roger… I'm not letting you use me like I was some whore that you could just screw and then throw away…" He began to cry, and I felt like my life had ended.
"But… but… I love you…"
"You don't know what love is, Roger."
As the door slammed, the earth shook with the fury of hell. Everything began to spin, and then even the stars and the moon extinguished, leaving me in total darkness.
***
Several hours later I woke, finding a sleeping Mark clasping my hand. "Mark…"
He woke with a start, "Roger… are… are you okay?"
Touching my head, I groaned again. "I don't know…" I forced myself to sit up, against Mark's pleads, "What happened?"
Mark blushed. Oh god, he didn't think I remembered… "We… were talking about you going to Mimi's… and we had some words… and after I shut the door, I heard you drop. I think you were just exhausted and overwhelmed and still weak from loosing all that blood…"
"Mark, I passed out. I don't have amnesia."
The meek filmmaker tightened his grip on my hand. "You were stressed. I could have been anyone. I'll just forget about it… no big deal…" He forced a smile.
A small grin spread across my face. Reaching my hand out, I tried to poke him, using barely any pressure. "You are so fake…" Mark sighed, tilting his head to one side. I continued, "…fake smiles, fake emotions, fake reality, even your eyesight is fake… You have a totally fake appearance."
That earned me a chuckle, and Mark climbed over me to the other side of the bed. We both stared at the wall for a while. I looked at the posters of all of my failed bands, evaluating my life. "Roger… why me?"
Closing my eyes, I looked at my life. Every memory I had was a failure. Yet somehow that failure always turned into something good. Because Mark was there. "Everything good in my life I've always fucked up. I can't think of a single thing in my life that ever worked. Yet somehow every time I screwed myself over, you were there to help me pick up the pieces." I turned, looking my friend in the eye. Oh, his eyes. "You know your eyes are beautiful… they always give you away, though…" Mark shut them, looking away. I sighed, and finished my speech, "You were always there, Mark. You were someone who always had faith in me. You supported me in the bleakest of times, and stayed by me even when I didn't stay by you, and you've always been someone I could tell everything to… why?"
He kept his eyes closed. "Because you're Roger and I love you…"
"Then why is it so crazy for me to love you?"
"Because you're Roger. You have women throwing themselves at you. You don't need me…"
"What makes you think I want them?"
"You always have. You're a lady's man, you're straight…"
"The only thing stopping you is that one little word. Straight. There's no such thing, Mark. There's only love. Right now, I happen to be in love with a man. No big deal." I smiled softly, knowing that I remembered Jo's words perfectly.
Mark smiled back, finally opening his eyes again. "Want to see the end of my movie? I didn't have the nerve before…"
"Of course…" With Mark keeping me stable, I tottered into his room. He tucked me into his bed, and fast-forwarded the film to what I had known was the end.
"The family is dead…"
"No, that's not true…"
"Yes it is! Angel's gone, Collins is gone too, Joanne moved after her and Maureen broke up, Maureen left for LA, and Benny went back to Alison… the family is dead. And Mimi's never around anymore, Roger. She's gone back to Benny."
"W-what?"
"I saw them together last week. I couldn't tell you, I couldn't be the one to break your…"
"Oh, you're hurt…" The sexual tension between Mark and I in that scene was finally noticeable to me. I enjoyed kissing Mark and he enjoyed me kissing him, but we both were too afraid to tell the other… "All better!"
"All better…"
"And remember, I'm still here for you!"
"Yeah… I guess so…"
The film went black, and I thought it was over. But a happy Mark appeared onscreen, and the real version grasped my hand tightly. "Hey Roger, guess what I've got here?" He lifted the crumpled papers that I immediately knew they were my songs. "Apparently you found that inspiration… You really have to learn how to take out the trash…" He laughed softly, flipping through them again, "You know, after finding these… I couldn't help but wonder… maybe you will still be there for me, and maybe the family will still survive… I love you…"
Mark's chicken-scratch writing appeared again, proclaiming that it was indeed 'The End.'
After Mark turned off the projector he crawled back into his bed, slipping his hand in my own, waiting for a response.
"I never should have bought you those gel pens…" My best friend smacked my arm playfully, and we shared another wonderful kiss. It would not be our last.
~fin~