Disclaimer: :sigh: I don't own these characters. They were created by the late, great Jonathan Larson.
Ch 4: I Couldn't Stop Myself (This one is my favorite so far :-)
Outside Roger saw no sign of Mark. He walked a few blocks in the accumulating snow, not sure if he was heading in the right direction. The dark clouds and the whirling snow made it hard to see. Almost ready to give up and try somewhere else, he saw the filmmaker sitting hunched over on a bench. Mark didn't notice Roger approaching, or he just didn't care. Roger stopped suddenly when he saw the blood running unchecked down the side of Mark's face. Grabbing a few paper napkins from the nearby hot dog vendor, Roger slowly walked towards his beaten friend; his boots crunched on the snow but Mark didn't look up.
Roger sat on the edge of the bench, holding the napkins out as a peace offering. Mark ignored him altogether. Roger saw that he was shivering, Mark had left his coat back at the loft.
"Mark, I…" Roger attempted, not finding the right words. "Damn… I'm no good at this. I really wish you'd punch me or something," he chuckled. Mark stiffened. "I know I've been a horrible friend to you Mark… I… You're my best friend and… and I treat you like shit. I'm sorry," Roger finished lamely. Tears slid down Mark's cheeks and his small frame trembled. Roger moved closer and wiped some of the blood from his face. "It's barely bleeding now," he commented. "Let's go back."
Mark shook his head stubbornly.
"Your lips are turning to blue, you're going to freeze to death," Roger tugged on Mark's arm, Mark angrily shook him off.
"What do you want me to say? I'll try, Mark. I'll try to make things up to you."
"Why?" Mark asked.
"Because you're my best friend and I want to," Roger said sincerely. He stood up and patted Mark's shoulder. "Come on." Mark grudgingly obliged; he walked keeping his head down, ignoring Roger's attempted at cheering him up. What a role reversal, Mark found himself thinking, usually I'm the one trying to cheer him up. They walked on in silence until Mark suddenly stopped a block away from their building.
"Mark, keep moving," Roger gently tried to push him ahead.
"No. I can't go back there," he looked distraught. "I can't face everyone."
Roger sighed. "I'll see what I can do," he started to walk away but turned back. "Don't, do not, go anywhere." Mark nodded and Roger walked away. A cold wind was blowing, cutting through Mark's clothing. He wrapped his arms around himself in vain. He decided to step into the nearby alley to get away from the direct blow of cold air, but it wasn't much better huddled against the cold wall. Finally he recognized Roger's footsteps coming towards him. Mark stepped back out onto the sidewalk and sneezed. A shiver crept down his spine.
"They're gone," Roger said, handing Mark his coat, "I thought you might want this." Mark took it and shrugged it on with stiff arms. Roger ushered him down the street, his arm half around Mark's waist.
-----
Once inside the loft, Mark plopped down in the middle of the couch and pouted. His gaze was fixed on the piece of floor just beyond his feet.
"Mark, talk to me," Roger sat down next to him.
"About what?" he asked impatiently. Roger was quiet for a while. He wasn't a good problem solver, this was normally Mark's job and he wasn't enjoying the switch.
"I don't know… Tell me what you're thinking."
"I want to know why, Roger."
"Why what?"
"Why did you react that way? About the festival," Mark added when Roger gave him a blank look.
"I don't know," he sighed. "It's just that…"
"That…?"
"…lately I…"
"Yeah…"
"It's nothing. Just something I need to sort out, it's noth-" Roger's voice caught in his throat as he watched Mark lick his lips, his eyes followed the pink tongue. What are you doing? Roger snapped back to reality. "It's nothing."
"Okay," Mark said with doubt in his voice.
They were both silent for a while.
"Mark," Roger swallow, summoning his courage to say the words he'd been thinking since last night, "don't ever do anything drastic, just because you feel forgotten," he rushed through it. "There are lots of people who care about you."
"What are you getting at?" Mark asked slightly angry.
"Have you ever thought about committing suicide?" Roger asked boldly. Mark didn't answer. "Have you?"
"It doesn't matter. I'd never be able to go through with it. You don't have to worry about me," Mark finally answered.
"I don't have to worry?" Roger repeated incredulously. "Tell me you've never tried."
Mark stared at his hands. He had trouble admitting to himself that there were times in his life that he had been depressed enough to try to find a way out. "I'm here today, aren't I?" Mark replied at last, his voice strained.
"You have… Mark, why didn't you come to me?" Roger stared at him.
"You were never there!" Mark returned Roger's stare, tears in his eyes once again. Why am I crying so much?
Roger opened his mouth to say something but changed his mind, instead he pulled Mark into a hug. Mark cried against Roger's chest, while Roger tried to comfort him. Before he could stop himself, Roger was stoking Mark's hair and then he kissed his forehead. Startled at this gesture, Mark pulled away slightly and looked up at Roger's face. Both friends stared into each other's eyes, Roger slowly lowered his mouth to Mark's. Mark let out a muffled murmur of surprise before succumbing to the musician's lips and kissing back. Their kiss deepened as Roger moved one of hands to the back of Mark's neck. Mark allowed his to explore Roger's chest.
"What the hell?" shrieked a voice from the door, breaking the two apart. Breathing heavily, Roger snapped his head around.
"Mimi!" he choked out, pulling his arms away from Mark. His girlfriend stared at the two men for a minute before hurrying out of the loft.
Mark glanced uncertainly at Roger, who looked both terrified and confused. "Go after her," Mark told him, feeling as confused as his roommate looked. Roger glanced at Mark before rushing out.
-----
Mark sat frozen on the couch for a while after Roger left, reliving the moment that had just occurred, tons of questions swarming through his head. Why did that happen? Is Roger in love with me? Am I in love with Roger? How could I be gay and not have known it? Am I even gay??? He was now thoroughly confused, yet he felt happy. That just felt right, Mark finally concluded and his cheeks flushed with the memory of Roger's lips and the feelings that a small caress to the back of his neck had excited in him. For some reason, Mark had to see himself in the mirror, as if that would answer all his questions, he hurried into the bathroom. His reflection smiled at him from the mirror: red cheeks, cut on his temple and all. He gingerly put his fingertips to his lips and sighed dreamily. I am in love with Roger…but how does Roger feel? That last thought burst his bubble. "Roger is in love with Mimi," Mark admitted aloud. "I don't even know what he's feeling right now. That kiss could have meant nothing to him. How could it when it meant so much to me?" Mark sighed again, this time almost defeatedly. "He did go after Mimi…"
(And that's all I have written so far. How am I doing? You *know* you want to review.)