Disclaimer: "The sadness, the doubt, all the loss, the grief, will belong to some play from the past." AKA don't own RENT or La Boheme.
Mark woke up at five thirty the next morning, after falling asleep at two. He heard remnants of Musetta's Waltz emanating from the living room and sighed, going to the living room to shut off the film that was left on.
He stepped over Maureen, who was sprawled out on the couch against the wall, passing by Roger's guest room, hearing him snoring loudly as usual, and he tiptoed to the television.
"I see we have power…" Mark noted from the television being on and not the film equipment.
"Don't turn it off," Molly murmured and Mark turned around. She was sitting upright on the pullout couch, wide-eyed as she paused the film.
"You're watching La Boheme…"
"We watched it before, but Maureen was talking, so I thought I'd—" she paused and blinked a few times, wiping her eyes tiredly. "Why are you up so early?"
"I have such weird work hours that any ounce of sleep or time of silence and I don't know how to handle it…" Mark confessed pathetically. It was true; he didn't know what to do with spare time. With Julie and the trial coming up along with his sketchy hours at Buzz Line, Mark wasn't used to free time.
"Well, Julie will probably be up soon, right?" Molly asked, moving over on the couch, patting the cushion next to her.
"Nope, she's the perfect daughter… she sleeps in. I have to wake her up or else she'd sleep all day," Mark noted and Molly smiled. "Why are you up?"
"Pain… I think I should walk it out eventually. I doubt it's broken, probably just a sprain," Molly shrugged and pulled a blanket over for him to share.
Mark moved to press play on the remote, when Molly's hand moved as well, the two holding both ends and releasing both ends when their hands touched. "Sorry…"
"No, it's my fault, I—"
"You can press play."
Molly obeyed and the singing resumed. She tilted her head to the side, taking off her glasses and watching intently. Mark watched her for a moment before resuming to the opera as well. "Rodolpho is such a tormented character," she muttered.
"Marcello is a sucker," Mark replied.
"And Mimi is perfect for him, but he just can't—see it, you know? And Musetta isn't even that bad for Mark." Mark scoffed and Molly smiled, rolling her eyes. "Yes, Musetta is flamboyant and flirtatious and true, she is unfaithful, but Marcello looks at her with such admiration and she can't live without him either."
"Moo," Maureen muttered in her sleep, rolling over and snoring louder, punching the side of the couch and grumbling in pain.
"Trust me, he can live without her," Mark muttered and Molly smiled.
"Angel and Colline, though… their relationship, however light it shows on the surface, you can tell Puccini meant for them to be together. It just wasn't accepted back then."
"The epitome of a strong relationship," Mark added.
"Exactly," Molly agreed and things got silent as Mimi confided in Marcello over her issues with Rodolpho as he was quietly listening off to the side. Mark got up and Molly looked over in confusion.
"I'm getting popcorn," Mark narrated halfway to the kitchen.
"This is more of a bucket of ice cream romance movie, Mark," Molly replied and Mark scoffed.
"Women," he rolled his eyes. "No ice cream," he said scanning the freezer, then the fridge. "What about cookie dough?"
"Sure, but um… any louder and everyone will wake up," Molly whispered more harshly.
"An atomic bomb would hit and Maureen would still be mooing in her sleep and Roger still dreaming of his rock star days. Hell, I could buy a drum set and play all night long and they'd sleep," Mark was talking in a normal voice, if not, louder and just louder snores followed.
He came back in with cookie dough, two spoons, two waters, and popcorn. "With a kid in the house, there is no alcohol to offer, however, I'm pretty sure the mini fridge in Roger's room is not filled with fruit…"
"This is fine," Molly said with a small laugh. She pressed play once again and leaned back against the cushions more, shifting to move her ankle and wincing.
"Are you okay?"
"Fine…" she winced and bit her lip. "Just uh—no, this is better, I'm fine," she shifted again and relaxed back into the opera. Toward the end, as Mimi slowly drifted and Rodolpho's optimism faded as he realized his love had perished, all noise from chewing and crinkling had ceased.
The camera panned to Musetta collapsing in Marcello's arms and Angel and Colline also mourning more subtly. Rodolpho fell to Mimi's side and cried for her to come back as the filmstrip skipped to an end and a white light followed the end of the film.
"Mark—" a voice faded in and Mark moved shifting on the surface, groaning and turning away from the light.
"How long has he been like this?" another voice.
"Give him a break, he never sleeps," yet another voice.
"Hey, back off, babe," Maureen… ugh.
"Maureen, stop being a bi—" Mark began, but she interrupted him.
"Your daughter's awake and roaming…"
"A butthead—" Mark correctly lamely. He rolled over and grumbled.
"I'm shocked you haven't gotten up sooner," Maureen muttered as Mark's vision cleared. "Molly was screaming for drugs this morning. Roger was against it, while I said, 'live a little'."
"Auntie Em, I had a dream—It was all so real. And you were there! And so were you! And you and you!" Mark mimicked and sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Whoa, you're standing," Mark noted toward Molly standing upright.
"Yeah, I actually have a meeting with that bitchy author I was telling you about, so Roger helped me stand and walk it off. It still hurts a little, but I'll manage—somehow," Molly muttered.
Roger looked toward Molly, still weak on her feet and handed her a mug of coffee and Mark one as well. "Man, you still talk in your sleep," Roger boasted.
"Oh god…"
"First in high school it was, 'Nanetteeeeeee,' then it was 'Maureeeeennn,' and now it's all mumbled gurgles. You're turning into Julie," Roger laughed and picked up the toddler, blowing a raspberry on her stomach. She giggled wildly and trashed in his arms.
"Nanette…." Molly began and Maureen jumped in.
"Well, I got the story from Collins who got it from Roger who got it from Mark, so this isn't really a primary source, but—"
"So when's your meeting?" Mark questioned and Molly smiled.
"Three hours."
"I'll help you get home," Mark offered.
"Then I owe you three times—" Molly noted.
"Three—?"
"Once for the first clumsy trip, the second for not letting you go home after Hitchcock and then the third was last night and me staying here for… who knows how long."
"So that's a no…"
"Just call me, or I'll be a moronic idiot and leave sketchy messages for you to laugh at," Molly amended. "Goodbye, Julie," she waved goodbye and Julie hugged her leg, then waddled off to the kitchen where Maureen was trying to—cook?
"Bye, Roger. Nice meeting you."
"Can you—stop Maureen from whatever she's burning?" Mark asked Roger quickly.
"More like save your daughter from the depths of hell," Roger amended. "Nice to meet you, too!" he said as he ran to the kitchen. "WHAT'RE YOU DOING?!"
"BAKING!"
"BAKING WHAT?! YOUR BOOT?!"
"NO! GOD, ROGER, STOP IT!"
Mark walked Molly to the door and he opened it. She stepped outside and turned around. "Thanks for—helping me again," Molly said with a smile.
"No problem," Mark muttered awkwardly. Molly grabbed his hand and pulled him out in the hallway, shutting the door behind him. "Hi…?"
"It's kind of—inappropriate to kiss you in front of your daughter and I know, you said you don't want complicated, but really, there's not my baggage on my end, so I have plenty of room for yours and Julie is adorable—I have no problem with you being a—"
"Molly?" Mark questioned and she swallowed hard, looking away, her cheeks flushed.
"Yeah?"
"Shut up." Their lips met and Molly hesitated before her arm wrapped around his neck and shoulders. She melted at his touch and stumbled slightly, breaking the kiss to wince. "Sorry," Mark muttered.
"No, I—can we—"
"Can we…?" Molly looked up at him and stepped forward, but he pulled back. "What're you doing?"
"Just—hold still," she cupped his cheek and looked at him for a long moment before their lips met again and she felt his arms slowly snake around her waist, pulling her closer. A slow fire began from her lips to her neck, down her spine, to her fingertips and toes. She pulled back with a small gasp and Mark pulled back immediately.
"I have to—go…" Molly hesitantly muttered, as if she were hypnotized by being this close and Mark let go of her waist. "I'll call…"
"You don't owe me anything anymore," Mark said as her back turned and she hesitated, smiled and went down the stairwell.
"YOU DON'T BAKE A WHOLE EGG IN A CAKE!"
"HOW DO YOU KNOW!?"
He stayed in the hallway until he heard the door shut at the very bottom of the stairwell. A small slam and then Mark opened the door, having Julie run into his arms. "What's up, beautiful?" Mark questioned and Julie whined.
"Are they fighting again?" Julie nodded and pouted. "How rude," Mark muttered and Julie smiled weakly, taking a fistful of his hair and curled against her father's chest.
He went into the kitchen and knocked on the doorframe. "Stop fighting, you're upsetting Julie," Mark said, tickling the whining infant.
Roger sighed heavily and Maureen began banging pots around as Roger hopped up on the counter. He looked over at Mark and then toward Maureen, then back at Mark. He grabbed the whisk in Maureen's hand and dropped it on the counter, pointing at Mark.
"He's beaming…" Roger said dazed.
"He's—He is," Maureen muttered, paused, and then squealed. "Is she a good kisser?"
Mark rolled his eyes, blushed and went into the living room, protecting Julie's ears from a conversation that would be held long after her bedtime.
"That wasn't an answer!"
Review.