Author's note: Since summer is almost here (it wont be for me until regents are through (two more to go!) I decided to get back into the swing of fic writing, and give you this little thing. The kidnap marker fic is coming along, I just need to plan out the next chapter. I appreciate everyone following it being so patient. Take this fic as a gift of my gratitude. Special thanks to my friend tate for helping me plan out the mid-ending to this! reviews make me smile for years :) enjoy! -krisrog out
It had been the most vicious fight he could recall being in with anyone.
Mark Cohen and Roger Davis had been together since new years. Mimi and Benny had become a thing long before the year was over, leaving Mark and Roger to sort out feelings and tension and emotions they both didn't realize they were holding onto. Before they broke back into the building, they were both drunk, laughing and waving tools from Roger's belt in each other's face, dancing together, and running around, and Mark decided to be daring.
In an alcohol influenced act of pure madness (in his opinion) he had kissed Roger long and hard, and he was taken aback when the response he received was nothing but positive. Roger had kissed him just as eagerly, soon giving Mark a playful shove, and running off, but not before Mark gave chase, catching up, and jumping into the guitarists arms. Roger had spun him until they were both stumbling, and Mark almost cried when he heard the unmistakable sound of Roger's out of breath, genuine laughter. The thing he hadn't listened to since before April died.
They had since become inseparable. It wasn't until now, three years later, did things start to get tough on them both.
There was strain on their relationship at the moment. They both seemed to be getting rather annoyed, and fed up with each other, and small fights would spark from near nothingness. Tonight was no different. However, little did they know, this fight would turn out to be a lot more brutal than either of them expected.
Roger sat alone on the window sill, looking frustrated. He kept glancing from the clock, to the street, to the door, and back to the clock. His impatience was obvious by the quickness of his hand running through his hair.
He wore a sleeveless black shirt, and his favorite plaid pants. His heavy steel toed boots clicked impatiently against the floor. Finally, what he was waiting for arrived, and Mark slid open the loft door, stepping inside with that familiar "Im sorry, Roger." look on his face. Roger was having none of it, as he watched Mark with a glare that could have shot razor blades from his eye sockets. The smaller man winced.
"So-sorry, Roger… I was-" before he could even finish, Roger cut him off.
"No, no… I know. You were filming, or you took the long way home, or you needed to help Maureen. How is she by the way?" Mark watched him with a mix of confusion, and hurt.
"Roger, we've been over this… Im coming home late because i'm helping Maureen with her newest protest… and sometimes she needs me to stay later. Im her only tech person, y'know."
Roger shook his head in disgust.
"You and Maureen have been a lot cozier, lately…"
Mark sighed, resting his camera down. "Roger, how many times do you need to hear it? I'm helping Maureen with a protest, nothing more!"
Roger stood up. "Coulda fooled me… I see the way you look at her… I see the way she looks at you… Does Joanne know about your protest? is that your code name for it?"
Mark massaged the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Roger, you're acting childish. There is nothing going on between me and Maureen, okay? we're over. We've been over for years. She loves Joanne, and I love you. She's a lesbian, for christ sake, Roger!" Roger snorted.
"She gives off more of a bisexual vibe… and so do you!" Mark knew he should have seen this coming. Should have learned from the fights he overheard with April, and the many quarrels he witnessed with Mimi. Roger Davis was a VERY jealous person. He figured now, the best thing to do, instead of touching a hot stove, was to let it cool. He started for his room with an exasperated sigh.
"Roger, I don't have the energy for this right now. Im going to bed." He tried to move past the taller man, but before he could, he was dragged back, Roger's grip tight on his wrist.
"Tell me the truth…" Roger snarled. Mark gave him a shove, yanking his wrist away.
"Knock it off, Roger! I'm not lying to you!"
"Youre gone all day! most of the night! What kind of fucking project takes that long!?"
Mark glared. "Well y'know something, Rog? misery loves company, and maybe I'm sick of playing company!"
Roger froze. "What do you mean by that?"
"All you do is sit in this loft, and hate the world, and anything else that passes you by. Maybe i'm sick of being trapped here, trying to get you out. I thought you'd make an attempt for me! Remember when we started all this three years ago? and we agreed to work on it together? so far, i've been doing all the work, and i'm sick of it. Im sick of your snarky remarks, and your constant possessiveness! I love you, Roger! isnt that enough? can't I have room to breathe without you assuming i'm whoring myself out to the whole east village!?"
Roger stood there, dumbfounded at Mark's words. He glared at his boyfriend.
"Fuck you, Mark! I have been trying! do you know how hard it's been?"
Mark's voice suddenly exploded.
"Yes! Roger mother fucking Davis, I know how Hard its been! you weren't the only one to go through all of this shit, you know! I lost April too! I cleaned her fucking blood off the bathroom floor! I held you when you cried for her! I took every punch you threw my way during withdrawal! I watched you torture yourself obsessing over Mimi! I lost Angel, just like you did! I've been keeping it together this whole time, so dont you dare fucking try and talk to me about trying! You cant try without even making a god damn effort! I should have know you would do this! You can't commit to anything! You can't keep your word for shit!"
He stood up, moving dangerously towards Mark.
"Nothing I do is ever good enough for you! You stupid fuck! Why dont you go back to scarsdale!? Youre a fucking two year old, so why don't you go and stay with your mommy!? You aren't keeping things together! you cut off your emotions when bad shit comes your way, because you're too much of a coward to handle it!
"Y'know something Roger?" Mark began, "If you keep turning on me like this all the time… I dunno what's gonna happen to us…"
"Well guess what, Mark…" He began, and he regretted the words the minute they left his mouth. "When this virus finally decides to bite me in the ass, im pretty sure ill go a lot more peacefully knowing that you aren't by my side anymore… maybe you should go run to Maureen more often…"
He knew he should have kept the thought to himself. Mark winced, and he knew he struck a nerve. Tears welled up in the smaller man's eyes, and before Roger knew it, a stinging slap had greeted his face. In an act of blind fury, he sent Mark flying across the floor, the unmistakable THUD of the albino hitting the couch seemed to echo around the room.
In an instant, he snapped out of it, staring at his hands in disbelief, and his anger melting away as he heard Mark whine in pain. No, no, no, no. He couldn't hurt Mark. He would never hurt Mark. He rushed towards his lover, but the smaller man screamed, kicking out. Roger was sent tumbling back, landing on his ass as Mark made a run for the door.
"Stay away from me! Im done with you, Roger! this is the last time, I swear! the last time!" he stopped to grab his camera.
"Mark, please!" Roger yelled, trying to hold the blond in his arms. His world went dark as Mark's fist cracked into his jaw. He stumbled back, everything spinning. He fell to the ground, passing out cold as Mark ran out the door, slamming it behind him.
The next day, as he was nursing the bruise on his face, He looked up as the loft door slid open. Collins stepped inside, Mark behind him. The smaller man was holding an empty duffle bag.
"Hey Collins…" Roger offered, watching Mark in confusion. Mark moved to his room, closing the door behind him. Roger went to follow, but Collins sat him back down, a stern look on his face.
"Roger…" he began, using his serious "Collins needs to have a talk with you" voice. "Mark told me about what happened last night…" Roger rubbed the back of his neck gently, and sighed, shifting the ice pack pressed to his jaw aside.
"Yeah… I… I didnt mean it, Collins… I blacked out.. I lost my temper… he hates me… I dunno what to do…" Collins watched him. Roger looked up. "Why do you have that look on your face?"
Collins cleared his throat. "Well, Roger… Mark and I both agreed that… it would be in both of your guy's best interest if… Mark stayed with me for awhile." Roger tensed.
"What? Collins, come on… Me and Mark are fine! he can stay here! I wont bother him!" Collins sighed.
"I'm not forcing him, Roger. He wants to go, and I agree. You two have been on shaky terms for awhile now, anyway. Maybe some time apart will do you both some good." Roger blinked with disbelief. At the same time, Mark emerged, his bag stuffed, and scarf wrapped neatly around his pale neck.
"Mark…" Roger began, standing up, but Mark cut him off.
"No Roger, I don't wanna hear it. Collins, can we please go?" The rocker stood there, helpless. He had never seen Mark so upset before, especially with him.
"Take care, Roger… i'll stop by tomorrow when school's out." Collins murmured, walking out of the loft, and waiting for the filmmaker.
"Mark, you can't go! I love you, please don't leave me!" Roger yelped. Mark spun around and glared.
"Oh, knock it off! quit being a baby! im not going across the fucking country! I need space from you! Im done being your punching bag! I said it once, i'll say it again. Im done!" and with that, he stormed towards the door.
"Baby, please! lets talk about this-!" Roger was cut off as the loft door slammed closed with a loud, metallic bang, and he was alone.
For the next few days, it was the same. Roger would wake up alone, spending his days brooding at the window sill, or in his room, wherever he felt suited him most for the day, he'd eat whatever hadn't rotted in the cabinets, and then hed return to bed, alone. It was taking a toll on him, and he had a lot of time to think. The fear in Mark's eyes when he had lost his temper made him feel sick.
Eventually, as promised, Collins came by. A knock on the loft door made Roger perk up. Taking a deep breath, he slid it open, but sighed when he saw the anarchist standing there with two bags of groceries.
"Thomas.." Roger murmured, and Collins quirked a brow, stepping inside.
"Gee, don't get too excited." he replied, a sarcastic edge to his tone. He set down the groceries on the counter, and looked over the musician with a look of concern.
"Sorry…" Roger answered, running a hand through his now bleached, and short spiked hair. his stubble still remained, though. Collins had nearly screamed in surprise a few days ago when he realized Roger had gotten it cut, telling him how different he looked.
"I got you some more food, I figured there couldnt be much left… how have you been?" Roger looked deep in thought.
"Thanks, man… i'm okay I guess…"
There was a long pause. Collins finally spoke up.
"Listen, Roger. I didn't come over just to give you some food. We're having a gathering at the life tomorrow night, for old times sake… you should come too…"
Roger snorted. "Yeah, sure… is he gonna be there?" Collins shrugged.
"I dunno… I can ask if he wants to…" Roger fell back against the counter with a sarcastic laugh.
"Yeah, right… once he hears i'm gonna be there, he'll avoid the life like the black fucking plague." Collins fixed him with a stern look.
"Stop being such a downer, Roger. Who knows? maybe it'll turn out okay. Maybe he will show…. I sent Maureen over to my place to take him out filming for the day, just to get his mind off things… im sure shes gonna ask him, and you know how convincing she can be." Roger shrugged with an empty expression in response.
"Get yourself cleaned up tomorrow. We're all gonna be a family again, relationships or not. You'll see." Collins promised. He didn't know how wrong the last statement coming out of his mouth would be.
The next evening, Roger stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist. He went into his room, beginning to change. He pulled on a pair of his nicer, slightly ripped jeans, and his favorite tight, black sleeveless shirt. He wore his black combat boots, and spiked up his hair with good smelling gel. He shaved some of his stubble, but not all, leaving a thin enough layer for it to be noticeable. Mark loved his stubble. He put on a good amount of the cologne he knew Mark went crazy over, and sat down on the bed, looking over to the picture on the nightstand.
It was of him and Mark when they first moved in. Mark was on the floor, halfway between a scream of protest and a laugh as Roger sat on his back. They were fighting over a bottle of stoli, and were both clearly drunk already. In aprils hand writing, the caption below read "My favorite assholes"
With a shake of his head, the ex junkie rose to his feet, and grabbed his leather jacket. He soon left the loft, heading for the life.
When he entered from the unforgiving frost outside, everyone was clustered around their favorite set of tables towards the back, laughing. He managed a smile, approaching. Maureen, upon spotting him, squealed in surprise at his haircut, and threw her arms around him.
Joanne smiled his way, and Collins nodded to him. Even Mimi abandoned Benny for a second, rising, and walking over to him. She hugged him, smiling.
"Look at you!" she cooed with the grin that made his heart melt. "You look so handsome!" she rubbed his arm. "Marky's gonna forgive you, you'll see." It was obvious the other bohos were aware of the massive fight, and felt it was time to try and get them on good terms. Roger sighed.
"I hope so…. is he…?" he asked, looking around for the person in question.
"He's outside." Collins answered. "He saw a bird that he found interesting, and… chased it with his camera." everyone at the table began to giggle. As if on cue, the back door shut quietly, and the albino made his way back to the table.
"The birds gone, I got some good footage before it flew off though! you guys-" the smaller man didnt finish. When he got close enough, he finally noticed Roger. Roger gazed at him with a pleading expression.
The group sat tensed, watching the exchange in silence. Mark's eyes showed hurt, but something else lay there too. Roger searched desperately. Mark looked like he wanted to say something, something important, but all that came out was a quick and cold utterance of:
"What are you doing here?"
Rogers heart sank. He looked away.
"I was invited."
Collins looked at Maureen in confusion.
"Maureen said you werent gonna be here." Mark hissed.
"Well, Collins told me I was more than welcome, so you can stop trying to boot me out." Roger snapped.
Mimi got to her feet. "You both are here, and so are we. Lets drink and have fun, huh?"
Both men huffed, and sat at opposite ends of the table. All throughout the night, they ignored each other. Collins had just about given up when Maureen came over with another idea.
Collins stood in front of Roger with a smile. "Rog, I got an idea…" he began. Roger blinked. "Why don't you go over and talk to Mark? ask him to dance?"
Maureen was coaxing Mark to do the same thing. Pretty soon, Collins and Maureen were walking after Mark and Roger as they backed away, insisting that they didn't want to approach the other. One thing lead to another, and pretty soon, they both bumped into each other while yelling at the same time: "I dont wanna talk to him!"
Mimi buried her face in her hands in exasperation. Benny watched in interested. Joanne sighed fearfully. Mark and Roger spun around to face each other.
"What, are you gonna catch my AIDS by speaking directly to me, now!?" Roger hissed hotly. Mark glared.
"No, ill catch something even worse. Your disgusting attitude. I said I was done with you, what's so hard to grasp about that concept!?"
"What do you want from me, huh? Im sorry! Mark, Im sorry! what else can I say!? what else do you want me to do!? BEG!?" he snarled, his fists balling at his sides.
Mark adopted a dangerous smirk. "Dont drive yourself to be any more pathetic than you already are, Rog."
With that, Roger snapped.
"Alright then! fine! you don't wanna forgive me? Fuck you! Fuck you, and fuck your scarf, and fuck your camera, and everything else!"
"Fine!" Mark screamed.
"FINE!" Roger yelled. The both spun around, pushing through their friends to get to the opposite exit doors. They both stopped when they grabbed the handles.
"Its over." declared Mark loudly. Roger lowered his head, closing his eyes, and clenching his jaw tightly.
"Yeah…" he answered, shaking his head. "I guess it is." with that, both boys were, gone leaving their shocked friends to take in all they had just witnessed.
A few minutes after both boys had stormed out, the discussion began.
"Have you never seen a bad lifetime movie!?" yelled Collins, glaring at Maureen. "You NEVER pull the whole "surprise the other one" trick! the only reason Mark came was because he thought Roger wouldnt be here! you can't just shove them together out of nowhere and expect good results!"
Maureen sighed. "Look, what was I supposed to do? you know the only way to get them face to face was to lie! I only wanted them to see what babies they were being, and make up! thats how Joanne and I work things out!"
"You and Joanne are a lot different then they are!" Collins challenged. "For one, youre girls. You cool down quicker, and aren't as stubborn. Not to mention Roger really did mess up."
"This was a waste of time anyway…" Mimi murmured. "Theyre done with each other…"
"Time heals all wounds." Joanne suddenly said, causing everyone to look her way. "Give them time, guys. We can't interfere anymore. Whatever happens from now on, they need to work out among themselves." everyone nodded in agreement, and returned to the table, heads low.
One again, with yet another week alone to think, Roger sighed. He missed Mark. He missed him a lot. He figured the filmmaker hated his guts. It had been three weeks since Mark left the loft, and another week since the fight at the life. In total, with four weeks apart, Roger felt a part of him beginning to fade. He realized what an ass hed been, well, hed been realizing it ever since Mark stopped staying with him.
The moonlight from the New York City sky filtered lazily into the loft. Everything it touched seemed to glow. It reminded him of the candles Mark would light to their room on valentines day. It reminded him of the sunrises the smaller man would make him wake up ridiculously early for. Ones where Roger would have Mark in his lap, arms wrapped around him gently, still trying to wake up, and nursing a cup of coffee as his boyfriend bounced with excitement when the golden rays creeped their way through the window, and bathed their room in a soft light.
He glared at moonlight now, his heart hurting. However, that didn't stop him from walking into his room, grabbing as much paper as his arms could carry, with a pen tucked between his teeth. Settling down at the kitchen table, he began to write.
Dear Mark:
I guess everyone always likes to say "Everything happens for a reason." That saying doesn't really sit well with me.
I cant understand why we lost April, or Angel, or why I got AIDS, or why Collins or Mimi did. I cant understand why your mother's a psycho (no offense) or why benny turned his back on us the minute he got a sniff of the good life, and left us to rot. Maybe it's karma for that one time back in highschool when you dared me to piss in 's garden, and I actually did.
Anyway, Despite the tragedy that's been befalling our bohemian family from day one, little things have come to the surface to make things right. Small, tiny things, that when they break the ground, explode into a brilliant flash of warmth, and love, and Mark Cohen, you are one of those things.
I'm not very good with words. (Shut the fuck up, I know I write songs, but i'm awkward at… this). I don't realize how bad my temper can get. I dont see the damage I can cause until it's done, and picking up the pieces of what I've broken becomes a dangerous task, as anyone can get cut on the shards.
I regret everything that happened that night. From every glare, to every shove, to every scream, to every tear, Mark, I can't even begin to find the right words, so let me start with these: Im sorry.
I dont expect you to forgive me. I fuck up. A lot. The damage we did to each other that night can't be reversed, but we can patch each others wounds, and help each other up, and try to kill each other's pain with love so strong, it has the same dizzying effects of morphine.
You make the static that fills my mind disappear. When i'm in your arms, i'm home, and loved, and safe, and right about now, this loft feels like a cold, dark alley, with nightmares lurking in the shadows. Im freezing, and i'm homesick, and to bury my face into your sweater once again would be a gift sent from Angel herself.
You are the absolute love of my life. Youve been there through everything. You have no idea how much I care about you. Your lovely mind couldn't hope to comprehend. I've obviously lost everything at this point, because you ARE my everything, and now you're gone, and i'm left without my sunshine. I'm left without a wonderful person to dedicate my heart, my love, my life, and my soul to.
I could go on for hours with this shit, Mark, but fuck, i'm gonna cut to the chase here. I fucking miss you. So much. I miss your laugh and your smile and your hair and your eyes and your hugs and your kisses and your touch and your smell and your fucking EVERYTHING. Im an ass, I know, and i've asked you too many times for forgiveness.
I hope you don't mind if I ask for one more. Please come home. Please let me hold you and kiss you and tell you all of these things to your face. Let me make this right. Mark Cohen, I'm sick of hurting you like this. Let me make it up to you.
I know you must hate me at this point… you seemed pretty angry at the life, and your anger is justified. I've put you through so much. Id hate me too.
Even if this letter does nothing, and you don't want me in your life anymore, I wont be upset. I realized too late that I needed to put my big boy pants on and grow the fuck up, and if letting you go is what you want, say the words, and ill back off. I love you, Mark. I only want you to be happy. If it means anything, once again, no matter what you choose, know I was wrong, and that im sorry. I'm so fucking proud of you. You have the talent and the drive to do amazing things, and some day, even after i'm long gone, you're gonna get something good, okay? promise me you'll get the fuck out of this place, and find everything you've always deserved. You can do it, Mark. The others believe in you, and I do too. I believe in you more than anyone.
Whatever you choose to do, you'll always be my favorite camera toting, scarf wearing, dork. I dunno how much longer i'll have on this earth from now on, but I know ill be able to leave here happy. I won't have any regrets. (even though my band did kinda fail), i'll be okay, because I got to spend half of my life with you by my side, and some time with you as more than a friend, and theres nothing else to replace the kind of excitement that left me. Being with you was like jumping off a building, and learning you could fly. You carried me over the heartache and the pain and didn't let me hit the ground, not ever. Im sorry I took you for granted. I can only hope if theres anyone ever fortunate enough to cherish you in the future, they don't make the same mistakes I did. You deserve so much better than that.
i'll stop rambling now. Im sorry, Mark. I really am. I love you, and good luck to you, wherever your heart decides to take you. Signed, your asshole, Roger Davis.
Roger stared at it for a long time before finally sealing it in an envelope. The next time Collins came over, he gave it to the taller man, who took it with a nod.
Another week and a half after Roger knew Collins delivered the note, he stood in the loft, trying to force down a cup of coffee. He rubbed his eyes gently. He hadn't been sleeping well at all.
With a sigh, he found the place he wanted to perch next. The metal table they kept near the kitchen area. He slid up on it quietly. He shuddered when he began thinking about the fight. Venom had been spat like no tomorrow. He wanted to kick himself for it. He hadn't exactly stopped himself from spitting back.
He had no idea where Mark was now. Collins hadn't said much, and the blond hadn't been back to the loft at all since he left, so many weeks ago. He wanted nothing more than to hold the smaller man in his arms once again.
The light slowly started to filter out of the room as the sun began to set, and Roger couldn't help but bury his face in his hands. The loft didn't feel like home anymore. Not without Mark in it.
The rooms seemed a lot colder. Who knew Mark's presence did so much to warm them? He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. His shoulders began to shake, and his eyes watered. He wiped at them impatiently. Roger Davis doesn't cry. However, as his breathing became increasingly erratic, and sobs threatened to spill from his throat, he had no choice. He wrapped his arms around himself in a pathetic attempt of self comfort, and tried to suppress his whines. A few minutes passed.
He was so wrapped up in his own pain, he didn't hear the loft door open, nor did he notice his ex-boyfriend watching him with the same watery eyes to mirror his own. He curled further in on himself, a distressed hiccup tearing its way from his chest. He sounded, and felt like a child. Another pair of sobs greeted his, and he jumped as he felt the smallest touch of his arm disturb his misery.
Mark looked to be just as much of a mess as he was. His baby blue eyes were red and puffy. He didn't look like he had been sleeping well, and his hair hadn't even been combed yet. Yet, he was still Roger's dorky camera man, blue and white scarf wrapped around his neck, and free hand nervously playing with the old, fringed edges like it was the only thing in this world that would keep him safe anymore. Roger hated that thought. It was His job to keep Mark safe, and he'd be damned if he'd let that piece of fabric steal it from him.
For awhile, neither one of them said anything. Roger finally forced himself to meet Mark's stare, and they both seemed taken aback at how much hurt lie in each other's eyes. Mark coughed out a sob, wiping his eyes with one final sniffle, and looked at Roger with a pleading gaze. Roger shot him an equal expression.
Roger then shook his head, worry coming across his face. He thought Mark had meant it when he said they were done. He figured the smaller blond could do so much better than a pathetic, washed up rockstar who carelessly lost his temper too often for it to be remotely acceptable. However, Mark wasnt about to let him believe that so easily. He grabbed a hold of Roger's hand, and wiped at his own eyes, offering a shaking smile, and a slight nod. Roger watched him for a second, before he broke into a wide smile of his own.
That must have been all Mark needed, because Roger nearly fell off the table when the smaller man launched himself into the rocker's arms. Roger reciprocated in an instant, sweeping him as close as humanly possible, and pulling him into his lap.
The two did nothing but cry into each other's clothes and skin for awhile. Finally, Mark rested his chin on Roger's shoulder, and kissed his head as the musician rocked them gently from side to side for a minute. He could have fallen asleep right there. He wondered how they could have spent so much time apart. How they could have been fighting so viciously in the first place. That night at the life, he had wanted to tell Roger he was forgiven, and that thing would be okay. He couldn't figure out why he had yelled instead. He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh, enjoying the fact that Roger was two steps away from squeezing the life out of him with how tight he was holding. Roger's face was still deep in the fabric of Mark's sweater. He was laughing and continuing to cry at the same time.
"You c-came back…" he whispered to the albino, his voice thick with emotion. "You c-came back, and youre here, and god, Mark… i'm so fucking sorry… I didnt mean any of it, you know I didn't…"
Mark already had his arms around Roger, but the tone of his roommate's voice only made him cling tighter, his nails digging into the thick leather of his jacket.
"Ro-roger… I read your letter… e-every word… I kn-know you didnt…" he sniffed again. "I j-just… wa-s so-so scared…. I didn't think we would be okay…. we both said some fucked up things…"
Roger hushed him. "We did… things we can't take back… we hurt each other, okay? and the scars are always gonna be there, but the past is the past, and what's done is done, and the most important thing in the world is the fact that you're here now with me…" Mark kissed his temple.
"I missed you so much…" Mark whispered, and Roger rubbed his back gently.
"I missed you too… ple-please don't ever leave again, okay?" he pulled away just far enough, and looked at the filmmaker. Mark began to laugh.
"I won't… god Roger, I wont ever… not again.. not ever again…" and then he grabbed the guitarist by the front of his jacket, and kissed him so hard, he was sure the other man could see stars.
The two remained like that until Mark leaned far enough that he was pinning Roger. He continued to kiss him, and tangle his fingers through his hair in an attempt to smother his lover with as much affection as he could muster. Pretty soon, They were cuddling in Mark's bed, a much more suitable, and comfortable surface than the kitchen table.
"Are you gonna move back in?" Roger asked quietly, his eyes hopeful. Mark traced his jaw, kissing the spot he had punched, and nodded with a small laugh.
"Of course I am… we can get my things from Collins tomorrow. It's late. He knows i'm here." without realizing it, Roger yawned loudly. Mark smiled. "Sleep, baby. We can talk more in the morning."
Roger shook his head drowsily. "No… I haven't talked with you in almost a month, Mark… I wanna catch up…" his eyes began to droop. The smaller man kissed his nose.
"Ill be here when you wake up, and even longer after that. We got plenty of time. Our whole lives." Roger grunted in confusion as Mark shifted, pulling something from his pocket.
"After I read your letter, Rog… I started to think where id end up after all this. I was thinking about the future, and who id want to spend it with." Roger was jolted awake as Mark kissed his hand, and slipped a ring on his finger. "This whole thing made me realize how important you are to me. I dont want to spend my life with anyone else… but you." Roger watched him, eyes wide. "Roger Davis, will you marry me?"
Roger was speechless. Tears gathered in his eyes again as he pulled Mark close in a tight embrace.
"Yes…" he said with a laugh. "yes, fuck yes, Mark… of course I will…" he leaned up, capturing his boyfrie- Fiance's lips in a long, loving kiss. Roger began to babble about how lucky he was, until Mark hushed him gently.
"We can gush about being in love, and spending forever together tomorrow. We can tell the others, and have Maureen squeal over it, and we can celebrate." he kissed Roger's head. "For right now, though, you look like shit. You and I are both exhausted, so lets get some sleep, hm?"
Roger nodded with a sleepy smile. He let out a sigh of content as he was pulled against Mark. He buried his face in his lover's chest, and closed his eyes, breathing in his familiar scent of tea, and soap. Pretty soon, he was warm, warmer than hed been in a long time. He had no trouble falling into a deep sleep. He was safe now, just as long as Mark was by his side. Things were okay.
Mark stared down at his sleeping blond, running his hands through Roger's short hair. Even though Roger was fast asleep, he spoke.
"I never got to tell you how much I loved your hair…" he kissed his head with a giggle. "I love you, you asshole…" and with that, he rested his head against Rogers, wrapping his arms around him, putting his glasses next to their favorite picture on the nightstand, and drifted off, Roger's gentle breathing, and light snore lulling him to sleep.