Through the Tears and the Laughter
AN: Special thanks to goldenone for telling me I could do this. Whether or not it's any good is yet to be seen :P.
Italics are flashbacks. Bold italics are song lyrics.
The sound of the rain hitting the roof slowly pulls me back into consciousness. As my eyes flutter open I regain my ability to focus them and realise I'm staring up at the 'living room' ceiling. Shit. I fell asleep on the couch again.
I suddenly become aware of the weight on my chest. I look down and am greeted by a head of brown, disheveled hair. Roger.
I'm not surprised. Since Mimi's death on New Year's Eve, it's been a common occurence for me to wake up in the middle of the night to find Roger sleeping next to me. I don't mind. I like the closeness, and sometimes he just needs to know someone's there, even when he's asleep.
On impulse, I lean down and kiss the top of his head.
"Christ, you're a sap."
Fuck. He's awake. Time for Mark Cohen's super power: changing the subject.
"What are you doing?"
"I could ask you the same thing." Okay, so it doesn't always work on the first try.
"You have a bed, you know." I try to stay on MY chosen topic of discussion.
"Your boney ass is more comfortable than that relic of a matress."
"Gee, thanks." Good, looks like he dropped it. I chuckle to myself a bit. Ironically, this all started years ago on this very couch. Everything seemed so carefree back then...
He drowns in his dreams
An exquisite extreme, I know
I hear the loft's door slide open. I look up from cleaning a lense to see a sweat covered Roger, guitar strapped to his back and eyeliner smudged around those emerald orbs. His first gig.
"So, how'd it go?"
I didn't think it was possible, but somehow the grin on his face widened. "Better than sex. I didn't think ANYTHING could feel that good." By the time he finishes saying this, the guitar has been discarded and Roger is flopped on the couch, completely spent. He stares at the ceiling.
I sit on the arm of the couch, one foot on either side of his head. "So, what was it like?"
"God, Mark, it was amazing. The lights, the music, the audience hanging on every word, MY words." He spends the next 3 hours until sunrise telling me everything: which songs they played, which ones the crowd liked most, how hot the lights were, everything. And as I look down at him, the smile, the ecstatic, almost hypnotized look in his eyes, I'm surprised by my own thoughts.
He's beautiful...weird to think of a guy as beautiful but no other word does him justice in this moment.