A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys, keep them coming! I have an outline of
where this is going, so I should be updating fairly regularly, assuming
finals aren't too tough and my sister doesn't hog the computer like she has
a tendency to do!
Without further ado, may I present Chapter Three, in which Roger and Mark make up, and in which Roger has a birthday. --Larissa
It's not that I respect you any less
For giving someone more
--Matt Caplan
Mark POV
I woke up the next morning with that horrible feeling you get when you've slept in your clothes. My mouth tasted like cotton and I spent a few moments lying there on the couch attempting to decide whether I wanted a shower or a drink of water first.
Lying on the couch. In my clothes. Why was I…and then I remembered. Last night. Roger. The screaming fight and barbed words we'd hurled back and forth at each other. The feeling of utter despair that washed over me when he slammed the door behind him, and how damp the pillow felt beneath my head as my tears dripped onto it.
Thinking about last night brought back that sick feeling in my stomach and I hastily scrambled to my feet, stripping off my shirt and throwing it onto the back of the couch as I made my way to the bathroom, where I shed the rest of my clothes and leapt into the shower. The water was almost scalding, and turned my skin a bright red, but I remained underneath it, wincing from the heat and feeling grateful for the pain that took my mind away from the previous night's events.
I stayed in the shower until the water turned cold and I began shivering. I had just toweled off and tugged on a pair of jeans when I heard a knock on the door. I ignored it. I wasn't in any mood for company. I ran my fingers through my wet hair, and the knock came again, louder this time. I sighed, wiped my face with the towel one last time, and went to open the door.
"Hi, Mark." Roger's eyes flickered over me. "Can I come in?"
If I hadn't been in such shock, I would have told him not to be stupid, that he lived here and could come in any time he wanted. Except he didn't anymore. He lived downstairs with Mimi.
I quickly tore my thoughts away from that, since Roger was still watching me intently. I stepped to the side and held the door open. "Come in."
His eyes jumped around the room as he came in. He was obviously uncomfortable, and waiting for me to say something first. Except I couldn't, even if I'd wanted to.
"I'm sorry," he blurted out. "I said some pretty awful things last night."
"You sure did," I agreed before I could help myself. His head shot up and he fixed me with his gaze. "But," I continued, desperate not to turn this into a repeat of last night, "I said some things myself. I'm sorry too."
He looked relieved when I said that. "I'm glad we could work this out. Friends?"
What else could I say? "Friends."
He hugged me then, one of those crushing, desperate hugs that say I don't want to lose you and I'm sorry and You're so important to me all at once. I put my arms around him and hugged him back, feeling the oh so familiar mix of pleasure and pain. I never could decide whether being so close to him like this was worth the agony that immediately followed.
"That's better," he said when we broke apart, giving me a weak smile. "You still coming to the party tomorrow?"
To be honest, I'd rather eat Maureen's cooking than spend the entire afternoon watching Roger and Mimi hug and kiss while I stood off in the corner with my camera, wondering if the piece of metal I held in my hand would be all I'd ever have. All my friends were paired off now. Collins had Angel, Benny had Alison, Maureen had Joanne, and of course, Roger had Mimi. They did their best to include me, of course, but I couldn't help feeling like a third wheel at times. I didn't belong anymore. There was no room for a single individual in a group of couples.
But I couldn't tell Roger this. Not when we'd just made up. Not on the day before his birthday, for God's sake. "Of course I'll be there," I told him. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."
"Excellent." He gave me that fabulous smile of his that I'd missed so much in the past year. "I've got to run now. Mimi's taking me shopping for clothes for tomorrow night."
Mimi. Of course. I plastered my usual bright, artificial smile on my face. "You'd better get going then. Wouldn't want to keep her waiting."
"You're right," he agreed. "See you tomorrow!" Another smile, a wave of his hand, and he bounded down the stairs and out of my life again.
I shut the door, feeling the familiar depression come crashing down on me. It always ended the same way. Roger would run back to his latest girlfriend, and I would be left alone to wonder why the hell I was wasting my life like this. Roger had made it perfectly clear that he didn't think of me as any more than a close friend. Why couldn't I be happy with that?
I groaned and flopped back onto the couch. These thoughts always took forever to sort out, and it wasn't a pleasant process.
It was going to be a long morning.
Sometime that evening, a knock came at the door again. I groaned and rolled off the couch, wondering why I had to be so popular on today, of all days, when what I wanted most was to be left alone.
"Mark?" It was Mimi this time, all five feet of her. Well, wasn't this terribly awkward? The devoted girlfriend, and the best friend who was secretly in love with her boyfriend.
Cut it out, Mark, I told myself firmly. It's not her fault Roger doesn't love you.
"Come on in." I held the door open for her. "So what's up?"
"Mark, I need your help," she pleaded. "I ordered Roger's birthday present two weeks ago, and it's still not here, and I don't know what I'm going to do!"
"I'm sure he'll understand if you explain it to him," I offered. "He'll know it's not your fault."
She shook her head sadly. "It's just that I love him so much, and I wanted to get him a gift that showed him how special I thought he was."
I could certainly understand how that felt. "Hey, wait here a minute," I told her. "I'll be right back."
It was buried in the back of my closet, carefully wrapped in newspaper and hidden in a box to keep it away from prying eyes. I'd gone through hell to find a recording of Roger's band, the Well Hungarians. They had broken up three years ago, the members scattered across the country. It took me months to track down this record, and I'd imagined millions of times Roger tearing off the wrapping paper, stopping in surprise at what it was, and the tears in his eyes as he thanked me. He would love it. And although this was a dimmer hope, he might love me for giving it to him.
I held the record in my hands for a moment, then walked back to the living room and handed it to Mimi. "Here. You can give him this."
She looked at the record, and back up at me. "Mark, I can't take this."
"Please," I insisted. "He'll love it."
"What about you?" she asked. "I can't just take your present for him."
"Don't worry about it," I insisted. "I've got some other stuff he'd like."
"Thank you," she whispered, reaching up and pecking me on the cheek. "You're sweet, Mark."
"Go on, now," I told her, shooing her toward the door. "Don't you have a party to plan?"
"You're right," she agreed. "See you tomorrow?"
"You bet you will." It was funny, really, how I could smile this much when my heart was breaking. "See you then."
When she left, I took out my camera and held it away from me so it filmed my face. "Close on Mark," I began. "Yet another chapter in this saga of loneliness and heartbreak."
Roger's birthday party was much as I feared. After a warm welcome from my friends, I found myself alone as they paired off into their exclusive groups of two. I was appointed cameraman, as usual, in charge of preserving all the memories of this wonderful event. I filmed mostly in silence, unable to explain to myself exactly why I was making a film of something I wanted to forget.
"Come on, guys, it's present time!" Mimi exclaimed, scrambling off the couch and running into the kitchen to retrieve Collins, who had appointed himself master chef in charge of the birthday cake, and Angel, who was busy frosting both the cake and Collins' nose. I took advantage of the opportunity to plunk down on the couch in her spot, right next to Roger. Very passive-aggressive, I knew, but dammit, it felt good.
Only for a moment, though, and then Mimi returned and sat down in Roger's lap and the sick feeling returned to my stomach. I shut my camera off, unable to film a minute more.
"Open mine and Joanne's!" Maureen exclaimed, snatching up a brightly wrapped present from the pile and tossing it across the room to Roger. "I picked it out myself."
I turned my camera back on to capture Roger's expression as he tore off the wrapping paper like a little boy on Christmas Day. "Wow, Maureen, I can't believe you got me a…" His voice trailed off, and he held up a shiny metal item, unsuccessfully holding back a snort of laughter. "What the fuck is this?"
"It's a garlic slicer!" Maureen exclaimed indignantly. "It was made by hand by an orphanage in Peru!"
Mimi attempted unsuccessfully to stifle her giggles. "Roger and I were just talking the other day about how we needed a Peruvian garlic slicer, weren't we?"
"I told you we should have gotten him the tie rack," Joanne insisted.
"Since when does Roger wear ties?" Maureen shot back. "It's just like you to give impractical gifts!"
"Hey, hey!" Roger insisted, obviously trying to break up the argument before it escalated into full-blown warfare. "It's great, and I love it. Thank you, Maureen and Joanne."
Maureen smirked at her girlfriend. "I told you so."
"Here, honey, why don't you open the next gift?" Mimi said quickly, picking up another parcel and handing it to her boyfriend. "This one's from me."
The room seemed to fall silent as Roger took the package and ripped off the brightly colored paper. His face was blank at first as he picked up the record, but then the corners of his mouth began to twitch, and before long the smile lit up his entire face in a way I hadn't seen in over a year. He ran his fingers lightly over the record, then set it down and hugged Mimi to him, kissing her gently on the lips. I saw it in slow motion and in perfect detail, the way he cradled her face in his hands, the soft, feather-light kisses on her forehead and nose, the matching glows in their eyes. The way he looked at her as if no one else was in the room but the two of them.
The way I always longed for him to look at me.
"Mimi, this is incredible!" he exclaimed. "Where on earth did you find this?"
She shot a glance over his shoulder at me. "I had a little help from a friend," she answered softly. "Happy birthday, Roger."
I shut off my camera as they kissed again. Everyone else in the room was looking at Roger and Mimi, and the expressions on their faces clearly said how happy they were that Roger had found a new reason to live in Mimi. I was too. Honestly. God, why was I being such a baby about this? If I truly cared about him, then wouldn't I just want him to be happy?
"Hey, Mark, where's your present, you big dork?" That teasing voice, so familiar to me, and yet so strange, unfamiliar to my ears after seven months of silence.
I handed him a hastily wrapped bundle, ashamed of how little I had to give. I had gone shopping this morning, searched everywhere for a present, and come up empty handed. Finally I admitted defeat and bought a card, scribbled a brief birthday greeting inside, and wrapped up an old necktie of mine.
Roger was holding it up now, his eyes darting back and forth between the tie and me. "Uh…thanks, Mark."
"My uncle gave it to me when I turned sixteen," I muttered, feeling my cheeks turn red. "It's always brought me luck."
"See, I *told* you we should have gotten the tie rack!" Joanne broke in, glaring at her girlfriend.
Ordinarily I would have jumped in and tried to make peace between them, but today I let them fight, grateful for anything that took Roger's attention away from me and my shoddy gift. The argument continued until Angel and Collins brought in the cake, and everyone chowed down, all ill will forgotten with the taste of chocolate.
I was the first to leave, begging off early on account of a long day ahead of me tomorrow (What was I talking about? When did I ever have long days?). Roger seemed disappointed, but quickly recovered when Mimi put her arms around his waist and whispered something in his ear, most likely a suggestion as to what to do with the leftover frosting.
Bad Mark. Bad.
"Hey, listen, thanks for coming," Roger told me, clasping my hand in his firm handshake.
I forced a smile. "Any time. Happy birthday."
When I got back upstairs, the only sound to greet me was the key scraping in the lock, and the deadening silence that surrounded me. And although I was the only person in the loft, I didn't feel nearly as alone as I had for the past two hours.
Without further ado, may I present Chapter Three, in which Roger and Mark make up, and in which Roger has a birthday. --Larissa
It's not that I respect you any less
For giving someone more
--Matt Caplan
Mark POV
I woke up the next morning with that horrible feeling you get when you've slept in your clothes. My mouth tasted like cotton and I spent a few moments lying there on the couch attempting to decide whether I wanted a shower or a drink of water first.
Lying on the couch. In my clothes. Why was I…and then I remembered. Last night. Roger. The screaming fight and barbed words we'd hurled back and forth at each other. The feeling of utter despair that washed over me when he slammed the door behind him, and how damp the pillow felt beneath my head as my tears dripped onto it.
Thinking about last night brought back that sick feeling in my stomach and I hastily scrambled to my feet, stripping off my shirt and throwing it onto the back of the couch as I made my way to the bathroom, where I shed the rest of my clothes and leapt into the shower. The water was almost scalding, and turned my skin a bright red, but I remained underneath it, wincing from the heat and feeling grateful for the pain that took my mind away from the previous night's events.
I stayed in the shower until the water turned cold and I began shivering. I had just toweled off and tugged on a pair of jeans when I heard a knock on the door. I ignored it. I wasn't in any mood for company. I ran my fingers through my wet hair, and the knock came again, louder this time. I sighed, wiped my face with the towel one last time, and went to open the door.
"Hi, Mark." Roger's eyes flickered over me. "Can I come in?"
If I hadn't been in such shock, I would have told him not to be stupid, that he lived here and could come in any time he wanted. Except he didn't anymore. He lived downstairs with Mimi.
I quickly tore my thoughts away from that, since Roger was still watching me intently. I stepped to the side and held the door open. "Come in."
His eyes jumped around the room as he came in. He was obviously uncomfortable, and waiting for me to say something first. Except I couldn't, even if I'd wanted to.
"I'm sorry," he blurted out. "I said some pretty awful things last night."
"You sure did," I agreed before I could help myself. His head shot up and he fixed me with his gaze. "But," I continued, desperate not to turn this into a repeat of last night, "I said some things myself. I'm sorry too."
He looked relieved when I said that. "I'm glad we could work this out. Friends?"
What else could I say? "Friends."
He hugged me then, one of those crushing, desperate hugs that say I don't want to lose you and I'm sorry and You're so important to me all at once. I put my arms around him and hugged him back, feeling the oh so familiar mix of pleasure and pain. I never could decide whether being so close to him like this was worth the agony that immediately followed.
"That's better," he said when we broke apart, giving me a weak smile. "You still coming to the party tomorrow?"
To be honest, I'd rather eat Maureen's cooking than spend the entire afternoon watching Roger and Mimi hug and kiss while I stood off in the corner with my camera, wondering if the piece of metal I held in my hand would be all I'd ever have. All my friends were paired off now. Collins had Angel, Benny had Alison, Maureen had Joanne, and of course, Roger had Mimi. They did their best to include me, of course, but I couldn't help feeling like a third wheel at times. I didn't belong anymore. There was no room for a single individual in a group of couples.
But I couldn't tell Roger this. Not when we'd just made up. Not on the day before his birthday, for God's sake. "Of course I'll be there," I told him. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."
"Excellent." He gave me that fabulous smile of his that I'd missed so much in the past year. "I've got to run now. Mimi's taking me shopping for clothes for tomorrow night."
Mimi. Of course. I plastered my usual bright, artificial smile on my face. "You'd better get going then. Wouldn't want to keep her waiting."
"You're right," he agreed. "See you tomorrow!" Another smile, a wave of his hand, and he bounded down the stairs and out of my life again.
I shut the door, feeling the familiar depression come crashing down on me. It always ended the same way. Roger would run back to his latest girlfriend, and I would be left alone to wonder why the hell I was wasting my life like this. Roger had made it perfectly clear that he didn't think of me as any more than a close friend. Why couldn't I be happy with that?
I groaned and flopped back onto the couch. These thoughts always took forever to sort out, and it wasn't a pleasant process.
It was going to be a long morning.
Sometime that evening, a knock came at the door again. I groaned and rolled off the couch, wondering why I had to be so popular on today, of all days, when what I wanted most was to be left alone.
"Mark?" It was Mimi this time, all five feet of her. Well, wasn't this terribly awkward? The devoted girlfriend, and the best friend who was secretly in love with her boyfriend.
Cut it out, Mark, I told myself firmly. It's not her fault Roger doesn't love you.
"Come on in." I held the door open for her. "So what's up?"
"Mark, I need your help," she pleaded. "I ordered Roger's birthday present two weeks ago, and it's still not here, and I don't know what I'm going to do!"
"I'm sure he'll understand if you explain it to him," I offered. "He'll know it's not your fault."
She shook her head sadly. "It's just that I love him so much, and I wanted to get him a gift that showed him how special I thought he was."
I could certainly understand how that felt. "Hey, wait here a minute," I told her. "I'll be right back."
It was buried in the back of my closet, carefully wrapped in newspaper and hidden in a box to keep it away from prying eyes. I'd gone through hell to find a recording of Roger's band, the Well Hungarians. They had broken up three years ago, the members scattered across the country. It took me months to track down this record, and I'd imagined millions of times Roger tearing off the wrapping paper, stopping in surprise at what it was, and the tears in his eyes as he thanked me. He would love it. And although this was a dimmer hope, he might love me for giving it to him.
I held the record in my hands for a moment, then walked back to the living room and handed it to Mimi. "Here. You can give him this."
She looked at the record, and back up at me. "Mark, I can't take this."
"Please," I insisted. "He'll love it."
"What about you?" she asked. "I can't just take your present for him."
"Don't worry about it," I insisted. "I've got some other stuff he'd like."
"Thank you," she whispered, reaching up and pecking me on the cheek. "You're sweet, Mark."
"Go on, now," I told her, shooing her toward the door. "Don't you have a party to plan?"
"You're right," she agreed. "See you tomorrow?"
"You bet you will." It was funny, really, how I could smile this much when my heart was breaking. "See you then."
When she left, I took out my camera and held it away from me so it filmed my face. "Close on Mark," I began. "Yet another chapter in this saga of loneliness and heartbreak."
Roger's birthday party was much as I feared. After a warm welcome from my friends, I found myself alone as they paired off into their exclusive groups of two. I was appointed cameraman, as usual, in charge of preserving all the memories of this wonderful event. I filmed mostly in silence, unable to explain to myself exactly why I was making a film of something I wanted to forget.
"Come on, guys, it's present time!" Mimi exclaimed, scrambling off the couch and running into the kitchen to retrieve Collins, who had appointed himself master chef in charge of the birthday cake, and Angel, who was busy frosting both the cake and Collins' nose. I took advantage of the opportunity to plunk down on the couch in her spot, right next to Roger. Very passive-aggressive, I knew, but dammit, it felt good.
Only for a moment, though, and then Mimi returned and sat down in Roger's lap and the sick feeling returned to my stomach. I shut my camera off, unable to film a minute more.
"Open mine and Joanne's!" Maureen exclaimed, snatching up a brightly wrapped present from the pile and tossing it across the room to Roger. "I picked it out myself."
I turned my camera back on to capture Roger's expression as he tore off the wrapping paper like a little boy on Christmas Day. "Wow, Maureen, I can't believe you got me a…" His voice trailed off, and he held up a shiny metal item, unsuccessfully holding back a snort of laughter. "What the fuck is this?"
"It's a garlic slicer!" Maureen exclaimed indignantly. "It was made by hand by an orphanage in Peru!"
Mimi attempted unsuccessfully to stifle her giggles. "Roger and I were just talking the other day about how we needed a Peruvian garlic slicer, weren't we?"
"I told you we should have gotten him the tie rack," Joanne insisted.
"Since when does Roger wear ties?" Maureen shot back. "It's just like you to give impractical gifts!"
"Hey, hey!" Roger insisted, obviously trying to break up the argument before it escalated into full-blown warfare. "It's great, and I love it. Thank you, Maureen and Joanne."
Maureen smirked at her girlfriend. "I told you so."
"Here, honey, why don't you open the next gift?" Mimi said quickly, picking up another parcel and handing it to her boyfriend. "This one's from me."
The room seemed to fall silent as Roger took the package and ripped off the brightly colored paper. His face was blank at first as he picked up the record, but then the corners of his mouth began to twitch, and before long the smile lit up his entire face in a way I hadn't seen in over a year. He ran his fingers lightly over the record, then set it down and hugged Mimi to him, kissing her gently on the lips. I saw it in slow motion and in perfect detail, the way he cradled her face in his hands, the soft, feather-light kisses on her forehead and nose, the matching glows in their eyes. The way he looked at her as if no one else was in the room but the two of them.
The way I always longed for him to look at me.
"Mimi, this is incredible!" he exclaimed. "Where on earth did you find this?"
She shot a glance over his shoulder at me. "I had a little help from a friend," she answered softly. "Happy birthday, Roger."
I shut off my camera as they kissed again. Everyone else in the room was looking at Roger and Mimi, and the expressions on their faces clearly said how happy they were that Roger had found a new reason to live in Mimi. I was too. Honestly. God, why was I being such a baby about this? If I truly cared about him, then wouldn't I just want him to be happy?
"Hey, Mark, where's your present, you big dork?" That teasing voice, so familiar to me, and yet so strange, unfamiliar to my ears after seven months of silence.
I handed him a hastily wrapped bundle, ashamed of how little I had to give. I had gone shopping this morning, searched everywhere for a present, and come up empty handed. Finally I admitted defeat and bought a card, scribbled a brief birthday greeting inside, and wrapped up an old necktie of mine.
Roger was holding it up now, his eyes darting back and forth between the tie and me. "Uh…thanks, Mark."
"My uncle gave it to me when I turned sixteen," I muttered, feeling my cheeks turn red. "It's always brought me luck."
"See, I *told* you we should have gotten the tie rack!" Joanne broke in, glaring at her girlfriend.
Ordinarily I would have jumped in and tried to make peace between them, but today I let them fight, grateful for anything that took Roger's attention away from me and my shoddy gift. The argument continued until Angel and Collins brought in the cake, and everyone chowed down, all ill will forgotten with the taste of chocolate.
I was the first to leave, begging off early on account of a long day ahead of me tomorrow (What was I talking about? When did I ever have long days?). Roger seemed disappointed, but quickly recovered when Mimi put her arms around his waist and whispered something in his ear, most likely a suggestion as to what to do with the leftover frosting.
Bad Mark. Bad.
"Hey, listen, thanks for coming," Roger told me, clasping my hand in his firm handshake.
I forced a smile. "Any time. Happy birthday."
When I got back upstairs, the only sound to greet me was the key scraping in the lock, and the deadening silence that surrounded me. And although I was the only person in the loft, I didn't feel nearly as alone as I had for the past two hours.