Author's note: Yay, I'm writing more. Eh, I don't have much else to say, except that I'm seeing The Strokes (and some other rockin' bands) in like…4 hours (!) at Jones Beach and I'm super stoked! Anyone seen them in concert? I hear they're awesome.
Disclaimer: Mark and Roger are Jonathan's. The lyrics to Rendezvous are Matt Caplan's (although I did fuck with them a little). The chapter title is also from a Matt song. 3 cheers for Matt! ::hurrah, hurrah, hurrah::
Roger's POV
I wake up and feel really disoriented. I open my eyes and look around, not sure where I am, and I see Mark, sleeping peacefully with a smile on his face. Memories from last night come back to me – the concert, the song, the kiss. The kiss. Shit, Mark and I kissed.
I've been waiting for so long for that to happen, and honestly, I did not think that it ever would. Yeah, Mark is bi. And yea, I'm in love with him. But I left. I left for a long time, and I didn't think that Mark would ever find it in his heart to forgive me. I'm still surprised that he did – I was such a selfish asshole, running away from what I was feeling, leaving him to cope with everything by himself. Mimi was his friend too. But of course, I didn't take that into consideration. I never used to think about the things I did back then; I just did them.
But, I guess leaving could have been excusable if I had kept in touch. Mark knows I'm not good at staying around and coping with things – he's seen me run away before, to Santa Fe. I came back pretty quickly then, and I called. I called every night, telling Mark how much I missed New York and asking about Mimi. This time though, there were no phone calls. I called everyone else – Maureen, Collins, the guys in the band. I always asked about Mark and they always told me to call him. I tried calling him – I really did! About a million times. But whenever I got the answering machine (Mark always screens his calls) and heard Mark's voice on it, alone, saying, "I'm not here. Leave me a message if you care." I chickened out. Because, no matter how much I tried to deny it, it was my fault that he was all alone. The person I loved more than anything else was alone.
Granted, that would've been easy to fix. I could've come home, told Mark how much I love him, and let bygones be bygones. And I almost did. But then, the guys all came to me and said we needed to make music. They said they couldn't do it without me. I didn't know how to say no; besides, being in a band was all I'd ever wanted. So I called Mark's machine one last time, and found the recording had been changed. It wasn't just a dejected Mark talking now. Instead, there was another male voice with Mark, and both of them were giggling into the phone, telling me to leave Alex and Markie a message at the tone and to have a lovely day. 'He doesn't need me anymore,' I thought then, and I didn't look back.
Sure, he was always in the corner of my mind. Every time some girl hit on me, I'd ignore her advances, thinking only of Mark. My Mark. The Mark who filmed everything, the Mark who hummed "Fame" while he made tea, the Mark who thought I didn't notice when he came into my room late at night and tucked me into bed while I was going through withdrawal and didn't have the strength to tuck myself in.
When I came back to New York, I knew it was inevitable that I see Mark. But, I thought it'd just be a chance meeting on the street, me by myself, him with his girlfriend (or boyfriend). We'd stop, and he'd ask why I left, and I wouldn't have the answers. So he'd say, "fuck you" very quietly and walk away, never looking back again. And I'd think about this meeting for the rest of my life, wondering about what could've happened.
Instead, this happened. It's better than anything I could've imagined.
I lean over to the bedside table and try to find my watch. I definitely put it there last night. I look around for a while and finally find it on the floor under my t-shirt. It's only 7:15… I don't think I've ever woken up this early in my life. I feel the man next to me stir – I know it won't be long before Mark wakes up too.
I can hear chords beginning to form in my head already. I get up and head for the living room, my fingers itching to get hold of my guitar. I'm gonna write a song.
Mark's POV
I wake up and feel the other side of the bed – it's cold and empty. I panic. Roger left in the middle of the night. He realized the kissing was a mistake, that he was too macho-rockstar to be into me. Rockstars don't kiss boys. "Well, I should've known," I mutter. Then, I hear music floating in from the living room. Of course Roger didn't leave. He's just writing.
I look over at the clock hanging on the wall – 8:45. Since when does Roger get up before 11? And, since when do Roger and I sleep in the same bed? Since when do we kiss? Wow. Roger and I kissed.
I get out of bed and walk into the living room, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to disturb my musician. I get my camera out and begin filming. He looks so passionate, singing with his eyes closed like that. I could watch him play for hours. The song is one I've never heard before. It's beautiful. The lyrics are so honest. I can't believe how much honest writing Roger's been doing. His songs … they never had depth before. Now it seems like they do.
The song ends and the noise of my camera fills the room. He turns around, startled.
"Mark…How long have you been here?"
"Long enough to hear the song. You write so well Roge." I walk over to him and he grabs my hand and kisses me. I still can't believe me and Roger are actually kissing. I break away from him and smile.
"That was nice, Roge." He chuckles, and leans in for another one, but I turn my head. "I'm gonna make some breakfast for us. You keep playing, ok?" He starts glaring at me so I kiss the back of his neck, and he smiles.
"Alright Mark…I'll play." He starts picking out the opening chords to the song he was just playing, and I sit across from him and just listen to the lyrics.
"I think God made me wise…I think he made me crazy. And that's why I connect the dots on every page. Who knows why I see what I see in the sky?
"And I was gone and I was haunted by images. Now your arms are wrapped around me like two human bandages. They're healing my spirit, are they sending me messages? I am not lost, you are not wrong, I am not that which I most fear. Tell your demons to disperse, they are not welcome here… And if I miss you, and if we falter, we will rendezvous under the water.
"I think God made you wise, I think he made you crazy…And that's why now you are here with me…Who knows why you see what you see in my eyes?
"And I was gone, you left me with memories. They were fragile and fading, like gray ghostly entities. And I swear I came back cos you were sending me energy…You are not lost, I am not wrong, you are not that which you most fear. I'm telling my demons to disperse, they are not welcome here. And if I miss you, and if we falter, we will rendezvous under the water.
"You gotta hold your breath…you gotta hold my hand. Maybe we're not that wise, maybe we're not that crazy…"
He stops playing and realizes that I've been listening to him this whole time.
"Hey, that's not fair. You were supposed to be making me breakfast!" He runs over to me, and before I know what the hell is going on, he pins me to the ground, and straddles me, laughing. "Dude…you always sucked at wrestling."
We both laugh for a while, and then I lean up and kiss him. The kiss deepens quickly, and he lies down on top of me. We keep making out for a long time, breakfast completely forgotten. Pretty soon, Roger's taking off my shirt and sucking on my nipples. As good as this feels, I know we can't move this fast. For one thing, Roger's got AIDS. For another, he's my best friend.
"Roger." He stops what he's doing and grins up at me. "I'm gonna make breakfast. We should eat. And you need to take your meds." He stops smiling and gets off of me. I look over at him, but he won't meet my eyes. "Roge?" No response. I go into the kitchen and make us each a bowl of cereal and some orange juice. "Roger."
"What?" he snaps, glaring at me from the couch.
I walk over and put my arms around his waist, kissing his hair and ears. "Calm down, silly." He kisses me on the mouth, and I know things are ok again. "Breakfast is ready."
