Film-Chapter 2
Title: Film
Author: IDontOwnEmotion. aka Becca the boho
Summery: Mark does...some stuff...and then stuff happens...i suck
Rating: Moving into PG-13 for stuff I can't talk about because it will give away plot
Disclaimer: Another holiday season came and went and still I do not own Rent
...tedium...
From the minute Mark woke up that morning he knew something was wrong. He awoke from his restless slumber in the mid-morning to complete silence. Everything to Mark was a routine. His morning routine happened to be, wake up to sound of Roger tuning his guitar, have a bowl of Capt'n Crunch, remind Roger to take his AZT, obsess over film shots in a dark room for hours on end.
So of course Mark began to panic when he discovered the absence of Roger's guitar. Slowly rising from the comfort of his mattress, Mark made his way to Roger's room. Standing by the door Mark could hear ragged, uneven , rattling breaths, escaping pained lungs. Throwing open the door Mark rushed over to a sweating, shaking Roger curled up in his bed sheets. Mark stroked Roger's head gently while Roger turned to the other side of the bed and coughed long and load. When he pulled away Mark was revolted to see the bed sheets stained blood red.
"I'm calling an ambulance." Mark said urgently getting up from his place on the floor.
"No...don't...I'm fine...I hate the" Roger pleaded between earth shattering coughing fits.
"Roger, you're going to the hospital whether you like it or not!" Mark shouted this over his shoulder while he was on hold with 911.
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
Mark sat hours later in an uncomfortable waiting room chair. A nervous twitch of his was acting up and he couldn't stop tapping his fingers. Wild uncontrollable thoughts raced through his head. He won't make it, his mind told him. He's already had too many close calls. Roger can't be that lucky. Of course you thought roger would always be there. You thought he had plenty of time left, but I knew. You should have known it too. Every day when you reminded him to take his AZT. You could see him slipping away before your very eyes. Face it Marky. His time has come and soon you'll be all alone.
"No." Mark whispered to himself. Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. He better get a hold of himself. People were starting to stare.
A gentleman in a white uniform strode over to Mark.
"Mark Cohen?" He asked
"Yes." Mark resonded trying very hard to keep the desperation out of his voice.
"Mr. Davis...Has slipped away. We're so sorry. We did everything we could...is upstairs...In the morgue. Crying out to see you one last time. Slipping every second I talk to you...He is fine. His condition is stable, and he wants to see you.
"Oh thank God!" Mark sighed pushing his way through the crowd of people in the waiting room.
Mark couldn't help takeing the stairs two at a time. He was incredibly relieved Roger was going to see another day.
Stopping at an open doorway Mark smiled as he looked in on a perfect, sleeping Roger.