Disclaimer: Rent was created by Jonathan Larson. Someone else now has the rights to it; I'm not sure who, but not me. I'm only having a bit of fun. Please don't sue me... pretty please?
A few days later, Mark found himself tossing and turning in his bed. He'd had an average day filled with seeing patients, doing paperwork, then had his weekly dinner with his parents. His father wanted him to talk about his lucrative practice the entire time and his mother kept mentioning eligible women from their temple. She never really accepted the fact that he was gay, thinking it was just a phase or something.
Roger had been repeating the number in his head over and over for the last few days, remembering what the doctor told him, reliving their conversation. He whimpered softly as he crept into the living room. It wasn't that he had any specific injuries... things just... he hurt all over. Especially the burn. He pulled the telephone off the table and sat on the floor cross-legged around it. He breathed deeply, picked up the phone and as fast as he could dialed the number he had imprinted in his mind.
The phone startled Mark and he inadvertently knocked the cordless phone to the ground after the first ring. It took him another ring to find it and then one more to find the Talk button. Luckily, he pressed the button before the answering machine picked up. "Hello?" he asked groggily.
Roger gave a startled gasp: he had actually answered! He gasped and collected himself. "D... Dr. Cohen?" he asked softly. He glanced over his shoulder: nobody.
"Yes, this is he," said Mark. He didn't quite recognize the voice. It was obviously male and young. It wasn't one of his nephews, since they would have called him Uncle Mark. He hadn't spoken to his ex in six months and that jerk wouldn't have used his title. His brain searched his memory: who could possibly be calling him? After a few seconds he realized it was the young man from the doctor's office. "Roger? Is that you?"
Roger nodded automatically, then realized Mark couldn't see him. "Yeah," he said. He sniffled and wiped his face on his T-shirt. "I-is it too late? I'm sorry. I..."
"It's fine. I wasn't quite asleep and I did say you could call me any time." All of a sudden Marked realized what that sniffling sound on the other end of the line meant. "Roger, are you okay? Do you need help?"
"Yes... no... I don't know," Roger said. He covered his mouth and sobbed into his shirt. then wiped the spit off his lips. "The aloe isn't helping anymore."
Mark's heart wrenched. He could hear Roger crying and just wanted to reach through the phone line and wrap his arms around him in a comforting hug. He had to settle for using words instead. "It'll be alright, Roger," he said. "Do you need me to come and get you?"
The thought terrified Roger. As much as he wanted to beg the doctor to please, please come get him right now, he couldn't. He shook his head. "No, no, you can't do that, you can't do that, you c--" Roger stopped and listened. He'd heard a door creak above him and now heard footsteps. "Oh shit..." he whimpered. "I have to go," he told Mark quickly. "I'm sorry. I have to go." And he hung up.
Mark stared at the phone. What had happened? Why had Roger hung up? He had sounded so frightened. Mark shivered a bit and then dialed 69 on his phone. At the very least, he could get the number that Roger was calling from. He was tempted to run to the office and grab Roger's file to get his address but something inside him told him not to.
Roger nearly vomited when he heard the telephone ring. He knew this could not go well, and he couldn't get to the phone to yank it off its hook. He curled up tighter around himself.
"Hello?"
Roger moaned. There was no way it was anyone but Mark, he knew.
Mark wasn't sure what to make of the voice at the other end of the line. It definitely didn't belong to Roger. Mark was tempted to just ask to speak to Roger, but he wasn't sure that was a good idea. Something about the way that Roger spoke so softly and the panic in his voice at the end of the call made Mark realize he was trying to keep it a secret. Mark had to think fast. "Hello. This is Dr. Mark Cohen speaking. I was just on the phone trying to reach Dr. Joshua Rogers when I got disconnected. Is this his number?" Mark prayed that the other man wouldn't recognize Roger's middle name.
"Roger's not a doctor. He's a high-school dropout who wouldn't've made it to his senior year, anyway." Roger moaned, more because he'd been kicked than at the words. "What is it you want to tell him? I'll deliver the message."
Mark groaned. So much for his clever ruse. "Just tell him I'll see him at the office for his appointment tomorrow."
"He doesn't have an appointment tomorrow. I'm well aware of your reputation, Dr. Cohen... but you're through treating Roger. I'm sorry he bothered you. He'll apologize. Wait."
When the phone was place at his ear, Roger wondered what Mark must be hearing. It must sound like rain to him. Maybe loud enough rain so he couldn't hear Roger crying or the instruction to apologize. "I'm sorry I bothered you," Roger said. "I'm very sorry."
Mark could hear the fear in Roger's voice. He wanted to do something for him, but wasn't sure what he could do. "It's alright, Roger. You're not a bother."
"Thank you," he whimpered. "You're a really good doctor."
"There, satisfied? Now he won't bother you again and you can leave us alone."
"I'm sorry for disturbing you tonight." said Mark. He really had no idea what to do now. Obviously there was something wrong with Roger's situation. He hoped he hadn't made things worse with his phone call. Mark lay back in bed and tried to sleep.
to be continued!
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