A large crash interrupted both their thoughts. Mark jumped up and found the
source of the sound. Roger considered not checking it out just to avoid Mark
but his curiosity pushed him. Roger found Mark looking into his room in awe.
"Wow." Roger said. Mark nodded. They both stood staring into the room.
The ceiling had caved in, most likely from all the heavy snow. Water, wires,
and chunks of ceiling were everywhere. Sparks were flying everywhere and just
about everything Mark owned was ruined.
"Anything important in there?" Roger asked. But he knew the answer.
'Mark's camera . . . Mark's wonderful camera was in there.' Roger
thought sarcastically. Roger was sad it was the ceiling that broke it and not
him. Mark didn't answer. He could hardly breathe, let alone talk. Thank god
his clothes were in the closet; the little of his savings too. But his camera
was on his bed and his bed was covered in plaster and wood from the ceiling.
"No. Oh god no. My camera." He muttered before diving into the room,
jumping over the clutter, straight to his bed. But he hardly made it through
the mess before Roger's arms looped around Mark's stomach from behind, holding him close. Any other day this would make Mark's breathing stop, his heart speed,
and his palms sweat but right now his camera could be dead. His whole life was
put into making films and now his camera could be smashed and Roger was
holding him back from knowing. Mark struggled to get out of Roger's arms but
he was to strong.
"Let me go Roger!" Mark screamed.
"Mark you're acting crazy! Look at all the sparks flying around in there!
And pieces of the ceiling are still falling! You could get hurt going in
there."
Roger lifted Mark off his feet and turned him around walking back to the
couch, All the while Mark struggling to get away. "Mark! Stop it! It's
just a camera." Finally Mark found his way out of the warmth of Rogers's
arms and turned around to face him.
"It's not just a camera! It's my life!" Mark yelled with rage. "I
put my whole life into filming and I'm broke! I can't buy another. I
can't do anything else!" Marks face was red with anger and his breathing was lounger then his regular voice. In seconds he calmed and whispered.
"I don't know how to do anything else." Mark hung his head in a failed attempt to hide his tears. Roger never looked at it that way. He understood what Mark was saying.
All Roger could do well was play
guitar. That was his life. He wouldn't be able to live without it. Roger knew he
was being selfish. Mark's dreams were coming true and Roger was just
mad at him for leaving. Roger felt horrible. Mark was close enough for Roger
to lean in and touch Mark's forehead with his own. Roger placed his hands on
Mark's neck and gently began to massage it with his finger tips.
"I'm sorry." Roger muttered. "I didn't understand." Mark nodded.
They didn't stay like that for long before Roger easily lifted Mark from
his feet, cradling Mark in his arms. Mark was so out of it he hardly
reacted.
"What are you doing?" Mark asked emotionless. This large event had made him
tired as hell and Roger was taking him to bed.
"You'll sleep with me tonight. In Collins room."
"Why don't you just sleep in your room?" Mark asked as Roger gently placed
him in Collins bed.
"One word: mini heater." Roger said as he tucked Mark in and then turning
the heater on.
"I'm sorry." Mark mouthed; his eyes hardly opened. Roger nodded. He was
almost sure Mark was sleeping now. His eyes were closed and his breathing
slowed to a low steady beat. Roger brushed Mark's hair out of his face
clearing a spot for him to lightly kiss and he did.
"Why do you keep on doing that?" Mark mumbled with his eyes still
closed.
"Instinct." He whispered smiling. Roger slipped on a shirt and walked out of
the room. He spent the next hour cleaning up Mark's room. He didn't even
bother asking the front desk for help. He knew with their lack of rent, they
wouldn't do anything but kick them out. He cleared the chunks of ceiling,
placing them on the stairs outside the window. He wiped up most the water
and put everything Mark owned, that wasn't crushed, over the heater so it
could dry. As for the hole in the ceiling, Roger tore apart trash bags and taped
them over the hole, making sure to tape the lose wires onto the little ceiling
that was left. At least like this it wasn't as freezing with the hole covered up.
He put the pieces of Mark's camera in a bag and hid them in a cabinet. Mark
would be sad to see what it was reduced to.
Roger was surprised to see that it was only 8:30 but he crawled into bed with
Mark all the same. It was a small bed but he made it work. Roger stared at
Mark's sleeping face. He was adorable. Part of Roger wanted to get it over
with and just kiss Mark, but out of respect for Mark, he made sure there was
a large space in between them and then drifted off to sleep.
Roger was normally a heavy sleeper. The screaming on the streets didn't
wake him. The TV one floor down didn't wake him. Even the loud crashing
thunder outside didn't wake him. However, it did wake Mark and Mark's
uncontrollable shaking woke Roger. Mark was curled up in the corner of the bed
against the wall. His body was in a fetal position. His hands were wrapped around his head and he was soaked with sweat.
"Mark? Mark? God, what's wrong?" Roger panicked, sitting up and wrapped
his arms around Mark protectively.
Mark's breathing was loud, very loud. Between huffs of breath, he said:
"Astraphobia, Brontophobia, Keraunophobia, Tonitrophobia"
At first Roger thought he was speaking gibberish but after a second he
remembered Astraphobia, Brontophobia, Keraunophobia, and Tonitrophobia. They
were all phobias, all meaning fear of thunder? Mark had a fear of thunder. If this
was anyone else Roger knew he would laugh but this was Mark. His Mark, and
when things like this happen to Mark it's just not funny.
Another bolt of thunder made Mark flinch and grab Roger's shirt pulling
himself against Roger and burying his head in Roger's chest. At first, Roger
was a little alarmed but it was Mark and he liked holding Mark.