PART I: I Woke Up To See Your Face
Again
I sat on the
folding table's top just pondering the events of the past few hours for the
next half of the night. It had already been late when Roger left, and soon I
found myself glancing at my watch. 1AM. 2AM. 4AM – No Roger.
It was getting
late and I barely realized that I was dozing off. I hardly felt my eyelids
closing of their own accord and my breathing slowing to a defeated lethargic
movement. I felt myself lean back and settle on the table. Just a few more
minutes and Roger'll be home, I kept telling myself. Just a few more minutes….
I walked into
the loft at about 4:39AM. I was expecting to see Mark sitting up on the table
waiting for me or sleeping soundly in his room – safely away from harm's reach.
What I saw was a mixture of both – Mark asleep on the table, curled up in a
ball with his arms wrapped around himself. His bright eyes were closed
definitely for the night and his chest rose and fell with steady breaths. His
pale face was worse than usual, accented only by some familiar bruises that I'd
given him earlier. Some dried blood still lingered on his pallid lips, and I
watched as his glasses slipped farther down on his straight nose – so familiar
and perfect in all its simple beauty. He reminded me then of when I first met
him – when he was a little nobody, filming life passing him by, when he was no
more than 15. I couldn't help but smile, seeing him so innocent and youthful in
that position. God, I loved him more than life.
No, Roger! You
don't love him that way. He's your best friend and nothing more… But, I
couldn't control the rush of emotions as I staggered towards him, moving to
stand before the table, leaning over his peaceful form in quiet slumber. I
knelt down to his eye level, brushing away some locks of red hair that hung
down in his disheveled fashion. I allowed my fingertips to trace his pure, soft
skin gently, letting the hardness of my own melt into him. He stirs slightly at
my touch, moaning inaudibly and I freeze. What if he wakes up? Shit! Don't let
him catch you hovering over him like some sick demented freak that watches his
best friend sleep. Oh God, please don't let him wake up!
He shifts
positions as some of those long tresses fall into his face. His hair has grown
a lot in the months I've been away. After changing his body to a new pose, his
lethargic breathing continued dimly. I still knelt before him and still allowed
my hand to remain on his white skin. It was making me ache – not being able to
touch him or hold him or anything…. But at the same time I knew I couldn't bear
if he were to awaken. What would he say to me? What would I say to him? I mean,
he's gay… Am I gay?
That question
had been haunting me all night long and was the sole reason that I was late
coming home – I didn't want to face those eyes of his, asking me without words
whether or not I liked the intimate contact between us earlier. Had I enjoyed
it? Christ – yes! It was as if it had been meant to be. We'd been the only two
people on Earth at that moment, and it seemed that the world was turning just
for us. I remember as our lips touched, a feeling of immense satisfaction
shocked me into reality, sending waves of shivers down my spine. I couldn't
take it. As he pushed forward to deepen the kiss, I freaked out and ran. I
couldn't help it – I was so damn scared. Everyone I've ever loved has left me.
April, Angel, Mimi – and now what about Mark? If I admitted that I loved Mark,
would he leave me too?
"Roger?" I
heard the whisper, tickling my ear. I turned to see Mark's eyes opening hazily
as he struggled to sit up. His lips curved into a cock-eyed grin and he brushed
the hair from his eyes as I retracted my hand cautiously. "Good morning."
I couldn't
help but smile – he can be adorable as hell sometimes. "Morning?"
"Well, it's
like…" he checked his watch, "…5AM, which qualifies as morning – hence the AM."
I nodded, silently, backing up to give him enough room to swing into a sitting
position with his legs dangling over the edge of the table. Both our eyes
dropped immediately. Neither knew where to start. "So, where'd you run off to?"
"Uhh…I got a
few drinks at Liquor Haven." I shrugged, looking up almost timidly (I am never
timid). "Sorry…"
He raised his
right shoulder, as if to shrug in reply, but when he looked up, he didn't
complete the gesture. "It's okay."
"No… It's
not…."
"Roger, let's
not –"
"I have to
talk about it, Mark," I sighed. "That's why you're sleeping out here, right?
You've been waiting up for hours now." He nodded with a slight blush. "I know
you too well," I grinned, messing his hair playfully, "Marcus."
He groaned
with a laugh mixed in. "Don't call me that…Rodolfo!"
I chuckled,
watching his face light up in giggles. I did love him, didn't I? The way I
looked at him then proved it all in that one moment. God, I loved him.
Inwardly, I berated myself for not telling him. All I'd have to do was lean
forward and take him in my arms – he was begging me in his own silent way to do
that, too. I could read his mind through those bright, dancing eyes. "You have
been waiting for hours, haven't you?" I whispered.
"Yeah….
Couldn't help it. It felt unresolved, and I hate that. You know that."
"Yeah, I do.
Me too." I paused, standing to my feet and then taking a seat beside him,
swinging my legs slowly as I leaned back slightly. "So, let's talk about it…."
Mark gulped –
I could tell. "I'm not good with how I feel, Roger… I've never been."
"Me neither."
There was a
somewhat awkward silence that followed. "So, if neither of us is good at this,
let's just start from the beginning," Mark finally spoke up. "I like you,
Roger…a lot…" His face reddened considerably and I felt mine do the same.
"Answer me
straight, Mark," I began, unknowing turning enough so that we were both facing
each other. "Are you gay?"
"Yes." It was
straightforward and not thought out – completely honest. "I've been thinking
about it for a few hours now, and I guess I've always known I was…but I just
thought it would go away." He paused, leaning closer a bit, tenderly broaching
his question. "Are you?"
"I…I don't
know, Mark."
He nodded,
leaning back again. "Okay."
God, was it
that simple for him to accept? Didn't he care if I was or wasn't? Wouldn't it
change everything, in the way he wanted it to, if I was? What the hell was
wrong with him? "Just okay?" I found myself asking. "You don't care?"
"Well, yeah I
care, Roger," he replied in all seriousness. "But, I can't force you to decide,
as much as I think you already know more than you let on, even if I wanted to,
which I do."
"I'm losin'
you," I replied with a small smile.
He grinned,
continuing, "I think you already know the answer to my question, but I don't
want to make things bad between us because I forced you to decide and come out
with it in two seconds." Shit! Did he just use the words 'come out' on purpose?
He didn't seem to notice, if he had. "I don't want to have to force you to do
anything. I just know that I am. I know now." He judged my reaction.
"Whenever you want to say, it's up to you."
I laughed
lightly after a moment, shaking my head. "Mark Cohen – patient? What's
happened?"
He shrugged.
"I dunno. I guess since you've been gone, things've changed. I'm a lot
different than when you left. I mean, I've been making films, writing
screenplays (which'll probably never be produced), trying to –"
"I think I am
gay," I blurted out suddenly, interrupting his speech. There. Now it was said.
No taking it back now, Roger. Why not go further? "I think I did enjoy…uhh…what
happened earlier…" I dropped my head. There, it's all out in the open now! I
watched him steadily, gauging his reaction. He was smiling softly.
"Really? I
mean…uhh…Wow."
"Yeah," I
muttered to myself. What the hell to do now?
He smirked at
me, holding back laughter – I could tell. "So, you're gay, I'm gay…let's do
somethin' about it." He nudged me, breaking out into laughter. I joined in,
despite my being a bundle of nerves. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all.
"Things are
fine," I replied, sitting on a small couch beside Collins, sipping a tea with
him. "I'm smiling, happy, content…"
"And
miserable," he interjected.
I nodded.
"Shut up."
"What's
wrong?"
I sighed. "I
don't know how to tell you this." I paused, setting the tea down. "So, I'll
just come out – literally – and say it: I'm gay."
He laughed,
crossing his legs. "I know. Is that all?"
"Is that
all? What the hell…? How long have you known?" I asked worriedly.
"A while now.
The way you and Roger look at each other is enough to send my pulse
racing." He chuckled happily. "So, why does that make you unhappy and
depressed?"
"I'm not –"
"Mark, don't
lie to me. I've seen your latest film – it's written all over the footage.
You're close-ups of Roger's eyes, nose, mouth, cheekbones, his chest… C'mon,
who are you trying to fool? I'm the biggest fag on the planet," he said with a
grin. "I know my people. And you, my friend, have a good companion in your
tough musician friend. So, what's the problem?"
I blushed,
pushing my glasses up my nose. "I love him."
"Oh… Does he
know?"
"I told
him…but we kind of never talked about it again after the first night that
we…uhh…told each other."
He nodded
knowingly. "Well, tell him again."
"I'm afraid
to."
"Why?"
"What if he
doesn't want me? What if he's not really gay?"
"Mark, a
person cannot take back gayness. It's just there, whether you like it or not.
You can't change it, can't subdue it, can't rearrange it – it's eternally yours
once you admit it's what's in your heart. Don't be so scared. Remember the
Friends in Deed motto: 'forget regret or life is yours to miss.'"
I smiled
softly. "So, I should tell him?"
He smacked me,
rolling his eyes. "Yes!"
I sighed,
grinning. "Okay."
"Tonight."
"No, I can't
–"
"No arguing or
putting it off, Mark – it has to be tonight or you'll never do it."
I took a deep
breath in. "Okay…tonight."
PART II: I Never Thought We'd Be Like This Again
God help me!
I've been standing here, leering over Roger for the past ten minutes, and I
still haven't worked up enough courage to do what my heart is yearning to. All
I want to do is kiss him – just one kiss! Is that so much to ask for? In fact,
I'm begging for it. I pray he'll wake up and find me here, sweep me into his
arms and take my face in his lithe fingers. Then again, if he wakes up and sees
me gawking at him like the fool I am, he'll probably run out of the room
screaming. I mean, I must look pretty creepy right about now. But, I can't help
it. I've always been mesmerized by the way he looks when he's asleep – those
pallid eyelids, lashes resting against his smooth cheeks, lips parted slightly
as the gentle rise and fall of his chest captivates me into a hypnotized
stupor…. Oh God, Mark, don't think so much into it. Just wake him so you can
tell him you love him. Get it over with.
Instead, I
leaned down, brushing some of his beautiful golden locks out of his eyes with
quivering fingertips. He stirs slightly, moaning as I trace my forefinger down
his cheek and jawbone; caressing that skin I've been fantasizing about so often
recently. He shifts in the bed, and for a moment, I take my hand away,
preparing to bolt from the room. I can't believe I've gone this far. Doing
anything more would just be stupid…right?
"Mmm…Mimi…"
I faltered,
letting my hand drop away. What the hell did he just say?
"Mimi…"
Do you hear
that, Mark? I asked myself inwardly. That's the sound of your heart breaking.
That's the sound of the affirmation that he doesn't love you. He's not yours.
I swallowed
and took a quick step back, my face flushed red with anger – at him, at myself,
at the world! Suddenly, the room was spinning around me and I tried to run
away, but as I did, I tripped over some clothing of his that was strewn about
over the floor, falling down with a loud thud. Looking up, I saw him, now in a
sitting position, staring at me with confused eyes.
"Mark?" He
cocked his head, sliding out of bed and offering me a hand to get up. "You
okay? What are you doing in here?"
I felt my red
face grow hotter and I ignored the welcomed gesture of his hand, getting up on
my own, shaking off the clothing that was tangled in my feet. "I'm fine." I
brushed myself off and began to retreat.
"Did you need
something?" He grabbed my arm gently, forcing me to stop. "What's the matter?
You look upset."
"No. I'm
fine," I replied through gritted teeth, trying to pull myself free.
He shook his
head, spinning me around to face him. Oh God – he was shirtless, as he always sleeps,
and those muscles were rock hard on his chest and abdomen. I got a bit dizzy
glancing at them and he steadied me. "What's the matter with you? You're
not…drunk, are you?" He grinned slightly.
"No, I'm not.
I'm fine, Roger. So, let me go."
"Well, first
you're going to tell me why you were in my room. Then, you're going to tell me
what's wrong –" I tried to speak, but he just continued, "—Because I know
there's something wrong, Mark. And then, maybe, I'll let you go back to your
room." He stared into my eyes, waiting for me to answer.
My mind reeled
for some kind of excuse. 'Yes, Roger, I am drunk.' 'I just came to get a glass
of water, and I took a wrong turn I guess.' 'I was going to ask you where you
put that extra role of film of mine, since I can't find it.' Any of those
would've worked, but instead I felt myself grow angrier under his caring
glance. "How many times do I have to fuckin' say it, Roger? I'm fine!"
His eyes
narrowed at me as he released my arm. He stood staring at me for a moment before
he spoke. "How long have you been in here?"
"N-not long at
all," I replied softly, now fear taking over. He's eventually going to figure
out that you were the one touching him, Cohen! Brilliant!
"Mark, what
did you want?" he asked, looking me over as he took a seat on the edge of the
bed.
That image –
so many times imprinted into my dreams lately – of him on the bed, looking up
at me with his hair all tussled and his eyes sincere… Oh God, why couldn't I
just stay calm? "I didn't want anything…. I was just…" I shook my head
hurriedly. "Never mind."
"Mark!" he
called after me as I tried to retreat. He was standing in the doorframe of his
tiny bedroom, looking at me in confusion. "Can't you tell me what's wrong? Did
something bad happen?"
I felt my lips
tremble. I wanted to tell him – so badly that I was aching. "N-no…. Nothing." I
turned away and began to walk to my room, only a step or two away.
"Mark?"
I stopped in
my tracks, nervous about how he'd whispered my name. "Huh?"
He approached
me from behind and turned me gingerly to face him. "I had this dream…. And Mimi
was there, stroking my cheek and breathing beside me."
I shivered as
I looked up into those big dark eyes of his. "Yeah…?"
"I swear I
could feel her touch, even when I woke up and saw you sitting on the floor."
I gulped,
nodding. "Uh huh…"
He stepped
even closer and I felt the heat from his muscular body repelling against the
thin clothing I wore. "Something tells me that it wasn't all a dream, Mark.
Something tells me that someone was actually touching me, because nothing feels
that real – not even in dreams." He paused, watching me, and I knew then that
he'd guessed what I'd been doing in his room. "It was you, wasn't it?"
"No, I wasn't
doing anything, Roger, I swear," I whispered, swallowing and bowing my head in
shame, my face crimson with anxiety. "Look, I was coming in to talk to you…but
then I decided not to and I…well, then I wanted to…then I tripped and fell, and
I was going to just sneak out and not bother you at all…but then, I wanted
to…uhh…no, I mean…and that's it… I wasn't –"
"Mark?" His
fingertips found my chin, turning my face up to him.
"Huh?" I
asked, trembling with emotions.
"Shut up." He
grinned, letting go of my chin and turning to go back into his room. "If you
wanted to talk, why didn't you just say so?"
I nearly fell
to my knees for they were so weak. God, was he torturing me now or what? He
obviously knew, so what's the deal with the comedic relief? "Uh…well….I –"
"Don't worry
about it." He smiled, brushing back some of that disheveled blonde hair. "So,
talk."
I shook my
head. "No." I was angry again. We'd been so damn close a moment ago to what I'd
wanted in the first place, and then he had to go and ruin it by joking with me
and fuckin' jerkin' me around! I wasn't about to sit down and talk now. Not
after that. "I'm tired now."
He frowned.
"Look, Mark, just tell me what it is you wanted to say to me. It's gotta be
something serious or else you wouldn't be so fussy about it."
"I'm
not…fussy!" I cried.
"Mark, your
face is redder than the blood in my veins, you're stumbling around like the
room's floating, and you're stuttering and quiet and anxious – either
something's wrong or you're drunk. Which is it?"
"Neither," I
retorted, glaring at him. What the hell does he know about it?
"Yeah, and you
take that tone with me because you're not mad. Uh huh." He folded his
arms. "Why can't you just talk to me? I'm trying to help."
"Look, it's nothing.
Forget it, okay?" I almost pleaded. "You're tired, I'm tired – this'll never
accomplish anything. We'll just get into another fight, or we'll say something
that we don't mean and we'll regret it later, or something will happen that
we'll –"
"Did you want
to talk about…us?" he asked, gauging my reaction.
My voice had
been cut short and I wasn't about to continue. He knew. Damn it, he knew.
"Uhh…I –"
"'Cause I
did."
"Me too," I
replied softly, my appearance changing a bit.
His gaze
dropped to the floor and he sighed. "I don't know where to begin, Mark…"
"Tell me why
you whispered Mimi's name in your sleep," I growled angrily. Hurt filled my
quivering voice before I knew I'd said the words.
"What?" He
paused, looking at me in understanding. "So you were touching me…" I
nodded. "And I said Mimi's name…?" Another nod. He sighed, moving over to stand
beside me, helplessly gesturing. "Look Mark, I can't help what I say in my
sleep…. I did love Mimi, I can't take that back. She'll always have a piece of
my heart, and so will April and –" I tried to retreat, but he caught me roughly
with both hands on my shoulders, making sure I stood still, "—And so do you,
Mark."
I whimpered,
meeting his gaze slowly. "I do?"
"What the hell
did you think, Mark? That I was lying when I said that I enjoyed how we were
the other night? God, don't you know that the only thing I've been thinking
about lately is how much I'm attracted to you?"
"R-really?" My
voice was as weak as my knees now.
"How much I
think about you and me… How much I've dreamt about us – together? And how much
I just want to tell you that…that I….Oh God…" He backed away, shaking his head.
"I can't say it."
I felt hurt as
I followed him. "Then I will: I love you, Roger…." It felt so good to say
again! My heart trembled as it raced frantically with every pulsating beat. "I
love you." I sighed in relief. It was so easy once I said it. The anxiety, the
unknowing, the depression, the fear – all gone with three little words! "Roger,
I love you."
"Please, don't
say that anymore," he growled softly, confused. "I can't say it back, Mark. I
can't…"
"Why not?"
"Everyone who
I've ever loved leaves me. I killed Mimi by telling her I loved her. I killed
April the same way. I don't want to lose you, Mark… Don't make me say it."
I released a
breath, swallowing as I let my head fall a bit. "I-I won't." I let my eyes rise
slowly to meet his gaze as I stepped up to him. "Roger?"
"Huh?"
"Kiss me." I
was begging now. I knew it would come to this. I kept reminding myself that he
didn't love me, that he couldn't even say those words to my face, and that he
was too scared for me to do this, but I couldn't help it. I caressed his cheek
gently, running my stretched fingers through his hair as I watched his
beautiful eyes close. He didn't say anything, but I could feel him moving
closer. I felt his arms rise awkwardly as he tried to place them around my
waist, then on my shoulders, and then they fell limply to his sides with a sigh
of frustration as he moved back a step.
"I can't…"
I felt my heart
breaking. Did he really not want me to kiss him? Didn't he just say he was
dreaming about how we could be together? Didn't he want this as much as I did? "Roger,
I'm scared enough for the both of us," I commented quietly, trying to be
humorous, but it came out empty, for I was lacking that emotion at that moment.
"Just tell me you want to… I need to hear it."
He seemed to
shiver from where he stood as he took another step back, turning away. "Jesus,
Mark," he breathed, running his hands through his hair with a low noise that
mimicked a groan. "You know I do."
"No, I don't
know," I retorted, moving to stand behind him. I felt my heart racing out of my
chest. Could I do this? I had to. If I weren't brave about it, how would I ever
know what he felt? I let my arms wrap around his stomach as I pressed my chest
against his bare back. I felt him moan softly and his muscles twitched. "Tell
me, please, Roger. Just tell me that you do want to love me. I can't take the
not knowing." I was enthralled with the sensation of his skin against mine, and
I was drunk on his scent – a smell I thought I'd known so well until now when
it changed completely before me, creating a vibrant new perfume-like fragrance
that I thoroughly enjoyed. I let my hands run over the hard muscles of his
chest and I felt him lean back against me, as he turned his head back to look
at me with eyes that were for once as innocent as mine! Oh, how I love that
look. How I'll always remember it.
"Mark…." It
was like music to my ears as I felt his hands settle over mine and we rocked
back and forth, swaying as if we were in some dance. "Mark, I do want to love
you. God, you don't know how much…"
I rested my
head on his shoulder, leaning further against him. I was out of my mind, wasn't
I? Look at the way we were – he: half naked and scared to death, and me: scared
to death yet trying to lead like I knew what I was doing, when in reality I was
so naïve to everything about this situation. "I'm not going to leave you,
Roger. I can't – not now that I've realized what my love for you is. It's more
than a friendship, which is what we always thought it was. It's more than the
closeness that brothers share. It's more than anything I've ever felt for
anyone."
He smiled
slightly. "Even Maureen?"
I laughed. "Even Maureen."
He sighed
gently, closing his eyes. Then, I did something that I never thought I'd be
brave enough to do. I moved one of my hands up to his face, turning it so that
his head was craned towards me, and I kissed him. I'll never – not in a million
lifetimes – forget the sensation of his hard lips against mine. I let my hand
steady his face so that we were pressed lightly against each other. Just as the
kiss began to deepen, he pulled away, stalking over to a corner. I stood,
swallowing – nervous again. Once again, bravo, Mark! Way to ruin the friendship….
"Roger?"
"Huh?"
"What's wrong?"
I crept up behind him.
"No," he said,
stopping me in my tracks. "Just…don't, okay?" He folded his arms, leaning
against the wall a little. Then, suddenly, he turned and looked at me – sadness
pouring from his very being. I reached out, offering to console him, but before
I could do anything, he graced past me and into his room, closing the door
behind him.
I dropped into
a folding chair, glancing over at his door with melancholy gazes. Why didn't he
just admit he loved me? I felt extremely confused, not only by my dominant
behavior but by his despairing visage that I had seen as he walked off. What
was eating away at him?
***See, AlterMe01: I
promised I'd post. lol***
***More soon,
kiddies, as soon as I figure out where I'm taking this…***
