Fall Into Place
A Mark/Roger Fic
Disclaimer: Mark, Roger and any other characters in this fic do not belong to me. I just like to fool around with their lives a bit.
---------------
Who am I? What do I want? More importantly, what am I going to do to get what I want? I asked myself these questions for years now, and I've known the answers for a good number of them. The problem is, I've never done anything about it.
I'm Mark Cohen. I want happiness and I want love, but who doesn't. How I'm going to end up with those things is a whole other ball game. Well, I know who I love. It was easy enough for me to figure that part out. It's just the fact that I don't know if he loves me back that causes problems on my part.
Yeah, -him-, I'm in love with a guy. The fact that it's a guy isn't a problem for me, after spending a good number of years in New York City, not much can surprise me anymore, nothing about myself and nothing about the stuff I end up encountering around here. But it's not just any guy that I'm in love with. I'm in love with Roger Davis. I have been for a couple of years.
Yup, I know what your thinking. Mark Cohen, the scrawny, pale, jew-boy, starving artist, filmmaker, bohemian, who was dumped by his girlfriend for another woman, is in love with his best friend, Roger Davis, rock-and-roll front man, guitarist and all-around sex god. Oh dear.
Let me tell you, I agree completely.
---
I picked at a half-full box of Capt'n Crunch as I thought. I had been doing that for a while now, losing myself in the monotony of slowly feeding myself cereal one piece at a time as my mind whirred uncontrollably.
Hearing footsteps, I brought myself away from my thoughts and into reality. I looked up and saw him make his way slowly from his room carrying his guitar. He plopped down on our sorry excuse of a couch before plucking a couple of pathetic sounding chords from his guitar. He hasn't done much else since Mimi left. He'd just sit and attempt to play his guitar. Nothing much more than that.
"Roger?"
A grunt was all that I received in reply.
"You need to eat," I stated with a shake of the cereal box for emphasis.
An "Mrmph" this time.
I picked up my camera and wound it up as I tried to think of a way to get Roger to do -something.- During the small lull in the almost nonexistent conversation, I noticed the whirring of my camera. A wry smile crept into my face as I related it to the whirring of my thoughts. Well, that shows how much I depend on my camera.
"Roger, you've been holed up here in the loft for God only knows how much time," I said before looking up from my camera. "Actually, I don't think I believe in God," I continued before scrunching up my face a little in fake thought. "For the almighty goddess of Anarchy and Bohemia then."
I tried to act funny. It didn't work.
Silence.
"You need to get out and do something, you need to live again. Ever since Mimi-" My sentence trails off as I look down at the camera in my hands.
I knew what I sounded like. My voice was detached, almost robotic. I was aware of my hypocrisy, but unwilling to admit to it. I raised my camera and filmed whatever I could. My cereal, the table, the floor, the loft. Anything I could to stop myself from looking back at Roger.
I knew what I was doing.
Roger did too.
"Stop it."
Reluctantly turning my gaze back towards him, I saw him looking at me. From the very beginning of our friendship, I could always read Roger's emotions pretty well. But for some reason, I couldn't at that moment.
"Stop what?" I asked feigning ignorance.
The clueless act didn't work. He knows that I know what he's was talking about.
"You tell me to live. You tell me to get out again. Why don't you listen to yourself Mark? You're the one who's hiding. Detaching yourself from the world. Making yourself look like your observing, when all your doing is stepping aside. Tell me Mark, why?" I looked at him blankly with only a hint of a frown on my face. In my mind, I noticed how his emotions flashed from accusation, to concern, and to worried curiosity, before settling into one that I couldn't read. Sometime between him talking and my internal monologue, Roger had gotten up from the couch and had stood up in front of me. That emotion was still in his eyes, the one that I couldn't figure out.
All of a sudden, it was like a dam broke within me. I began saying things that I meant to have kept hidden, and I couldn't stop myself.
"Why, Roger? Why I hide? Why I step aside? It's because sometimes I can't take it anymore."
I turned away from him; unable to meet his gaze; unwilling to see his reaction to what I was about to say; afraid that whatever emotion that was there would turn into rejection.
"Sometimes I can't take the cold, the loft, the days without food. I can't take the idea that the rest of my friends will either die or leave." I paused.
"And sometimes, I can't take the fact that I would never have a chance to be with the person that matters the most to me. The person that I fell for may years ago."
I raised my eyes to meet his, still fearing what I might have seen in them. I see his eyes widen as I continue to spill out a lot of the thoughts that have been running through my head for the past few days. Its obvious that this wasn't what he was expecting.
"I can't stand it that he's suffered so much over the years, that no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to make it better. I stand aside to try and make him as happy as I can, at any expense, even if it means that I'll never be with him, even if he's found someone else, as long as he's happy." The way I spoke made it painfully obvious to him that all of my "he"s and "him"s were actually "you"s. I knew then that I had spilled all my secrets. I braced myself for some outburst: a punch in the face, shouted words telling my that I'm insane, that I'm an idiot, that it'll never happen. But none of those ever came.
"You ask why I hide Rog? It's 'cause I'm scared. Scared that he'll eventually leave me without knowing how I felt."
That had been the first time that I had ever admitted to being scared. It had always been that I was the one people expected to be strong. The one that they could depend on. The one that seemed the least affected of the bunch. The shoulder to cry on. The supporter. The one that carries all their weight on his shoulders. For once, it was me that needed that shoulder to cry on. But who did I have left? Angel was gone, Maureen and Joanne were too busy with their own relationship. Collins was in Virginia causing havoc at a university. Mimi...Mimi was where Mimi was. And Roger? Roger was probably going to leave.
I flinched as I felt a gentle hand on my cheek, rough and calloused, but gentle none the less. I didn't expect the soft caress of Roger brushing tears off of my cheek. I didn't even noticed those tears till I felt his hand wiping them away.
"Mark, I... I honestly don't know what to say..."
"Oh, well... I guess I'll just go and-"
"No! Mark... I've been thinking these last few months. And I can't believe that I've never noticed how much you've done for me. You've stuck with me through April, and withdrawal, and just recently Mimi. I couldn't believe that anyone would do that for me. And it kills me to see you hurt. With everything else, I can't believe that I missed the fact that I care so much about you."
I saw that emotion again. The one that I couldn't figure out. It was then I realized what it was. It was love, caring, compassion, everything that I've wished to see directed at me.
The next thing I knew, I felt a pair of chapped lips on my own. I couldn't help but notice how much of Roger was poured into that simple kiss. The gratitude he felt for me sticking with him, the love he felt for me and all the mixed up emotions that anyone has when they first figured out that they were in love with someone. I poured as much of my feelings back to him in that kiss. How glad I was that he was still there, my happiness at the chance at something that I thought I couldn't have, the love that I felt for him that I was sure would never leave.
We broke apart from the kiss, smiling at each other. I pulled him back onto our ratty couch before leaning my head against his shoulder.
No declarations of everlasting love were made. None were needed. We both knew what we felt for each other, and that's all that mattered.
I knew it wouldn't be perfect, nothing ever was. But I had what I wanted. I finally had Roger and that I knew that he loved me back.
I figured everything else will just fall into place.
-----------------------------MR!
A/N: Woohoo! So here's my re-written version of Chapter 1. The angst!bunny and the fluff!bunny seemed to have had babies and made them attack me, but I'm pretty sure that it turned out better than the first one. (hopefully!) So if all of you nice people would like to review... -wink wink- -nudge nudge-
Honestly though, constructive criticism on how my writing is doing is -very- welcome. Also, my fics are all un-betaed due to the fact that I don't have a beta ( So if there are any volunteers out there... you get the picture
So yes. Reviews feed the starving artist!