Part 4 of 5. Mark is first, then Roger. Next up the final Mark/Roger confrontation!!! I do not own these characters, Jonathan Larson has all rights….
I'm in shock. I push myself against a wall and try to stop the bleeding. I think he broke my nose. Tears well up in my eyes, but it hurts to cry. I won't let myself cry. I push myself off the ground and begin walking back towards the loft. I don't have to think about the direction since my legs are on autopilot. I walk past St. Mark's Place and see the homeless people and street vendors setting up shop for the night. I think about filming them, so I reach for my camera. Instead I begin to point it at myself.
"I know I must be sight right now," No, no that's the way I should start. I take a deep breath. "Today, Thomas B. Collins left us. Thomas, known to his friends simply as Collins, was true genius as well as a true friend. He never judged us and he never pushed away. He was always there to listen. Even when he lost Angel, all he wanted was for our little family of friends to stay together and help each other. It brings me great comfort to know that he is finally with his Angel"
I put the camera down. There, I had to get that out. Why am I doing this? Why am I pretending this thing with Roger didn't just happen? I can still feel the warm blood dripping from my nose. I need to get home to clean myself up. I walk home and think about Collins and Roger. Collins would never hurt me, yet Roger does all the time. Is Roger really a friend? Is he someone I can count on?" Would he be there for me if I needed it? One look at my reflection in a store window gives me my answer.
I get back to loft and think about the next step I should take. The old Mark would just forgive and forget. But I think I may have reached my breaking point. I don't know though. I love the guy; there is no one else on earth I would rather be then with him. I don't want to waste time fighting with him. One thing I've learned these past few years is not to take anyone for granted. I really should be angry with him though; the only thing I'm guilty of is caring about him. I want him to be around for as long as possible so I nag him about taking care of himself.
I'm not going to search for him. He knows where to find me. I have never felt angry towards Roger before, but then again, he has never punched me before. "You didn't do anything wrong" I say the words out loud. "You didn't do anything wrong." I've made up my mind. I'm going to let him know that this is it. He either has to appreciate me, or I won't be there anymore. I have to face my life without him, now is as good as time as any.
I take off down the street, faster than I really need to move. I put my hand in my pocket to make sure it is still there. I can't believe I just did this. I can't believe I'm going to do it. As I walk down the street, I pass the corner where I left Mark. There is blood stained onto the sidewalk. I stop and stare at it. Did I actually do that? Did I actually hurt Mark?
I reach in m pocket and feel the small plastic bag. No, my mind is made up. I'm just going to waste my days away feeling nothing at all. But do I really want to live that way? I try to recall what seemed so obvious to me a few minutes before, but all I can see is Mark's face after I hit him. I need to go talk to him. He needs to know that I'm sorry…