Title: Bleeding Words
Author: Emily Anderson
Rating: R; Male/Male, Strong Language
Musical: Rent
Brief Summery: Maybe there is a reason Mark hides in his work. Maybe love is the reason he is trapped behind the lens and hiding behind the screen. [Male/Male]
Disclaimer: I don't own Rent. I don't claim to. I love the musical and that's why it inspired me to write this.
Feedback: Much appreciated, please. I would thank you so much if I could have it. R/R is always a good thing.
Thank You: Vai – For being my Beta. It means a lot that you wanted to do this for me. n.n It is always helpful to have someone check my stuff. Thanks a lot!!!
Fui – You always read my works… Thank you so much for being interested in what I write. Your opinion means so much to me. It really, really does. Thanks a load.
Roger. My breaker. My maker. That bastard. I can't believe he did this to me. True, I hid myself in my work, but only because he made me. Did he really think I could make it on my own? And now he has done what I cannot forgive. He shattered my life. He shattered my mind. He blew it all away for just a quick high.
It's Mimi's fault, really. She lured him from me. We were the best of friends until she got a hold of him. Her drugs sucked him in and they found "new" ways to have kinky sex.
It disgusts me, really. I hate her. I hate him. They can both go to hell. Though... can you really hate someone you love so much? Didn't he realize I was just hiding from him?
I knew he could never love me. No. Not me. Not poor little Mark who always is just watching and never wanting to get involved. No one questioned my motives, not until now. Not until I asked myself, "Why?"
It's been just a slow screw since Angel died. I could have been happy in ignorance, but that couldn't be. I knew he could never love me because he loved his drug, his Mimi, more.
For being such a strong advocate about changing one's ways, he sure fucked up this time. He doesn't even realize the shit he has gotten himself into. And… the hell he has created for me. It's all him. Everything has always been about him. No one else really matters, just him and his depressing lyrics.
He hasn't come home for a few weeks, the bastard. He has been just bedding with his lover and doing his drugs this whole time, forgetting his once friend. Obviously I didn't mean that much to him or else he might have at least, well, called or something.
My thoughts are broken off as I hear a thud against the door. I look up from my camera, which I was tinkering with, to see a pale and thinned Roger stumbling in. Without even thinking, I jumped from the table, dropping my camera to the floor. I'm so concerned about him, that I don't even make much note of the crashing noise behind him, the crashing of my camera.
Just as he is about to fall, I catch him in my arms. My eyes frantically search his and only see tired and aged eyes. I panic and drag him to my room, resting him on my bed.
"R-Roger?" I ask out in a tight voice, uncertain and afraid of what I might get as a response. I feel my body tighten as he brings his hand to my face, trying to calm me. "What's wrong?" I plead for him to tell me why he was so… scrawny looking.
He looks up at me with those soft, beautiful eyes he had. A small smile presses on his lips at the expense of my concern. "Can I just sleep for now…?" he asks me in a quiet and cracking tone. It hurt to hear his voice sounding like that.
I nod softly to him and pull the blankets over his frail and shivering body. "You sleep well, 'cause I'm going to kick you ass when you wake up…" I told him in a playful voice. The words just hit his ears as he drifts off into a light sleep.
Refusing to leave his side, I sit here, watching him. He looks so at peace resting in his dreams. I wonder what he dreams about. It is probably about his lovely woman, his tainted angel.
He rustled a few times in his sleep, but nothing too bad. Now, though… he is still asleep and I find myself being drawn into that alluring world. I lie down next to him and rest my head on the pillow he sleeps so soundly on.
My smile presses over my lips as I watch his eyes moving softly under their lids. A soft sigh escapes my lips before I close my own eyes and find myself drifting off into a soft and dreamless sleep.
You awoke my dreams. Triggering something of a bittersweet nightmare. I was sitting there, alone, the snow falling down gentle from the heavens. White flakes pressed down on my body and through the darkness ahead of me, you came walking out.
Your hands couldn't reach me. Your touch never lasted. Your image faded into nothing and I was only left with your soft scent. It was a soft and lavender scent. I knew it was you because I had thrived off that scent for so long. It burned me so deep.
All over again I could hear my camera smashing on the ground, but this time… it wasn't just my camera. It was you. My life. My heart. Nothing was left for me and yet I had that scent. That lingering scent comforted me and calmed me. It kept my smile even in the darkness.
The snow. It kept my vision alive. It kept me seeing what wasn't there. It made me see those who loved you pass by with their tears as they knew you were gone. They walked by, wishing you a fond farewell. Wishing you love and happiness wherever you had passed.
And they wished me well. I'm not sure, but I think we were lovers then. You were gone and I was the only memory left of you, other than you old guitar.
My hands were aged. Cracked. Wrinkled. I knew my own death was to come to pass soon enough and I would rest in the same ground you did. I would be in the same heaven or hell as you were. I would no longer be alone with my broken camera and my fading memory. Like a picture book that was fading… my mind was losing even you.
Then all of the sudden, it was gone. All of it faded.
All I could hear now was broken and ragged breathes, hearing him breathing against my ear, his heat wrapping my body up, embracing it, and smothering it.
"Is this real?" he asks me in a quiet and dry voice. His words pierce my chest and I cannot tell him no, but I cannot tell him the truth of yes. I just pull away and look to the side, casting my eyes off.
"Who has the right to classify what is real or not? Life may just be one dream we are disillusioned to think it is real," I murmur out softly to him. I really cannot believe in this life if this is what it had given me so far.
Feeling a strong hand on my shoulder, I knew it was his. Since there was none other in the room and I knew those hands so well, they were obviously his. My eyes press shut from this close feeling and yet know how distant we are.
His arms wrap around me, embracing me like a long lost friend. I could feel his panic in the subtle and comforting touch. It made me almost… relax to know I was missed by him. At least, missed in some sense of the word.
Ah, that scent. I could smell it even now. That gentle lavender tickled my sense of smell and made me shiver slightly from the sweet taste insisted behind it.
I open my eyes to spy a pair of soul-searing, intense eyes. Those eyes that I yearned to look into like this all my life. I don't know why, but this moment felt so real, felt so warm. I could hold him forever like this and never have enough.
My lips part to speak, but before I can utter a single word his finger silences me. "Don't…" he whispers to me softly. It wasn't a scolding, but it was a calm and serene voice.
I cannot help but obey his gentle command. I could never tell him no in my life. My eyes present him a look of question and I seriously am wondering what he is thinking at this moment. I want to be inside that surely beautiful mind of his.
His lips crack open to tell me something, but he stops himself before he can speak and shakes his head. I can see he is struggling to tell me something, but I feel so damn weak and feeble. I can't do a damn thing about it.
"Just tell me…" I say in a small squeak of a voice. Yes, pathetic as it is, my voice is a squeak when I speak those words. I don't want to ruin the air that kept us together.
Examining my eyes he takes me in just as I often took him in. It was a warm and sheltering feeling and I felt like we were the only men on earth in that moment.
In too short of a time, his eyes broke from mine and cast aside. "She… left me again. This time she won't be coming back… and I don't want her to…" he tells me in his steadiest voice he could manage.
My fingers run over his cheek and I sigh softly. "What happened?" I ask him, hoping that I wouldn't be prying into his business, just wanting to be there for him in his moment.
His arms embrace me ever more tightly. I fell like I could die perfectly in this moment and live forever in his touch. That feeling makes me feel like I am everything and could only be nothing at the same moment. It feels like a sinking and swimming feeling, so uncertain and wonderful.
He just shakes his head and then gives me that painful smile that could make any man cry. Err… female, probably. It hurts me to look at him smile when I can read the pain in his eyes. I don't think he realizes just how well I know him.
"Don't do this, Roger…" I tell him in a quiet voice as I run my fingers over his cheek in a strange manner. My eyes try to read into him deeper, but I can tell he had some of his emotions blocked for… whatever reasons.
Just leaning into my hand like an innocent puppy, he looks at me with a soft express. "Do… what?" he asked in a small and innocent voice. He knew damn well what… that's what pissed me off.
My eyes slightly narrow to him and I sigh in defeat from what he has said to me. "Fine… You don't want any help? I'll go away," I tell him as I pull away. My eyes are much more cold now as I push off from the bed with my head hung.
His hand grabs mine and I merely shake it off. "Just don't, Roger. Don't… make this any harder for you," my lips press out. I don't want to hurt him, but in my mind, I think this is the best thing to do.
Behind me I can hear a shifting and I brace as I feel a pair of arms wrap around me. Shit. I didn't want this to happen. Why in the hell was this happening? It has to be another dream, I tell myself assuredly. But… but…
It feels so good to be in his arms. I can't pull away from him. It's just… wonderful feeling like this. I can't pull away from him, even though I know it isn't a dream. My body even slightly relaxes into his touch.
This feeling… I want to fight it. I don't know how, though. It just draws me in. My heart is throbbing in my throat even. Please, let it all end painlessly, just this once.
Tight in my throat, my tears are being chocked out one by one. The clear liquid rolls down my cheeks as they parade alone their path, announcing freedom, along with my pain.
Why did love have to hurt this much? I don't understand how something so pure can be something so vile… It just isn't right. It shouldn't be as such, but it is how it is. If I die only knowing one thing… it is that I don't want to love and yet it is the only feeling I haven't been able to block in my life. The feeling is so betraying and calming.
"Don't leave me…" he whispers into my ear. His breath is heavy and moist on my skin and it feels so strange as his lips brush over the shell of my ear. Tickling me slightly and making me relax even more.
Really… I don't know how to respond to this all. It's something new. I hate it. This is why I am the one behind the camera. I hide. I do disconnect from the world to survive. Damn him for making me live.
His hands start to brush over my sides in a calming fashion and I feel intoxicated by his touch. My body twists within his light grip and I lean up against him. One action leads to another and I press my lips against his.
Realizing what I have done, I tear away and press against the wall. Never did I want it to end up like this. The only thing left is to break down my defenses and cry… Not until now.
"Perhaps it's because I'm the one of us to survive…" I mumble what I had once told him. Now… I knew for certain I 'pretended' to create to disconnect from the world. He knew me too well… and was right about me.
Sliding down the wall, I find myself lost, struggling, gasping for air. Don't let me die, but don't let me survive. I don't want to live past this moment. It hurts. I just want the pain to end. Just make it end.
"Poor baby…" he informs me with a tender voice. His body leans down and he falls to his knees. Without hesitation, he takes me within his arms and holds me close to him. "Just close your eyes… but don't give in to the pain…"
My eyes glaze with tears and I look up to him with an uncertain stare. "Aren't you the one who is supposed to be comforted?" I whimper out to him. This is all I can think of saying to him. I can't tell him thanks, only this.
When his head shakes, my heart melts. This isn't how the story is supposed to go. It isn't supposed to be written like this. What fates made life this way? They don't know what a story is. They don't know how things are supposed to work. They wrote me wrong. I'm supposed to be the narrator, not an active character in life.
As I close my eyes, as he had instructed of me, I feel a swelling in my chest… and his lips. This time it isn't I who made a mistake of joining the cast. He forced me back on stage. He forced me to be a player in the comedy of life.
Those strong lips against mine, they felt so glorious and strong. Slightly cracked, but only from being weathered. The pressure is so light and frail; I don't want to break it as if I were to break a life form if I did. He truly is taking my breath away.
There is nothing left but him. He is my life and he is my death. The script has been burned and I am basking in the flames. They tickle, really. Almost like a softly licking across my skin.
Wait. Maybe that's Roger. Oh, what is he doing to me? This strange sensation… it was perfect. I don't want it to stop, but… I have to stop it. "Roger…" I whisper out in a gentle moaning. I know he didn't hear me as he continues on. Or, he did and just ignores that I said anything. "Roger…" I protest more.
"Ung… Guh… Huh? What?" he asks me in a drugged voice as he pulls his head up from my stomach. His hair is all scruffy now, rather sexy, actually. Hey, how did he get to my stomach? Fuck… I am really out of it.
I close my eyes, knowing that if I actually look at him… I would be lost in him. "Roger…" I moan out in the best control I have. "I can't… I'm not used to this… I don't know how…"
"Shut up…" he cuts me off and presses his lips against mine. "I'm not letting you go… ever," he murmurs to me and presses me down on the bed, silencing my protests for the rest of our lives.
**********
A/N: Sorry the ending was really lame. ;_; I couldn't think of anything… and… meep. I just wanted to get this thing done. *puffy sigh* I might write another part to this, but not sure. Might just write a different fic itself. Heh. Hope you liked it… please R/R?
Author: Emily Anderson
Rating: R; Male/Male, Strong Language
Musical: Rent
Brief Summery: Maybe there is a reason Mark hides in his work. Maybe love is the reason he is trapped behind the lens and hiding behind the screen. [Male/Male]
Disclaimer: I don't own Rent. I don't claim to. I love the musical and that's why it inspired me to write this.
Feedback: Much appreciated, please. I would thank you so much if I could have it. R/R is always a good thing.
Thank You: Vai – For being my Beta. It means a lot that you wanted to do this for me. n.n It is always helpful to have someone check my stuff. Thanks a lot!!!
Fui – You always read my works… Thank you so much for being interested in what I write. Your opinion means so much to me. It really, really does. Thanks a load.
Roger. My breaker. My maker. That bastard. I can't believe he did this to me. True, I hid myself in my work, but only because he made me. Did he really think I could make it on my own? And now he has done what I cannot forgive. He shattered my life. He shattered my mind. He blew it all away for just a quick high.
It's Mimi's fault, really. She lured him from me. We were the best of friends until she got a hold of him. Her drugs sucked him in and they found "new" ways to have kinky sex.
It disgusts me, really. I hate her. I hate him. They can both go to hell. Though... can you really hate someone you love so much? Didn't he realize I was just hiding from him?
I knew he could never love me. No. Not me. Not poor little Mark who always is just watching and never wanting to get involved. No one questioned my motives, not until now. Not until I asked myself, "Why?"
It's been just a slow screw since Angel died. I could have been happy in ignorance, but that couldn't be. I knew he could never love me because he loved his drug, his Mimi, more.
For being such a strong advocate about changing one's ways, he sure fucked up this time. He doesn't even realize the shit he has gotten himself into. And… the hell he has created for me. It's all him. Everything has always been about him. No one else really matters, just him and his depressing lyrics.
He hasn't come home for a few weeks, the bastard. He has been just bedding with his lover and doing his drugs this whole time, forgetting his once friend. Obviously I didn't mean that much to him or else he might have at least, well, called or something.
My thoughts are broken off as I hear a thud against the door. I look up from my camera, which I was tinkering with, to see a pale and thinned Roger stumbling in. Without even thinking, I jumped from the table, dropping my camera to the floor. I'm so concerned about him, that I don't even make much note of the crashing noise behind him, the crashing of my camera.
Just as he is about to fall, I catch him in my arms. My eyes frantically search his and only see tired and aged eyes. I panic and drag him to my room, resting him on my bed.
"R-Roger?" I ask out in a tight voice, uncertain and afraid of what I might get as a response. I feel my body tighten as he brings his hand to my face, trying to calm me. "What's wrong?" I plead for him to tell me why he was so… scrawny looking.
He looks up at me with those soft, beautiful eyes he had. A small smile presses on his lips at the expense of my concern. "Can I just sleep for now…?" he asks me in a quiet and cracking tone. It hurt to hear his voice sounding like that.
I nod softly to him and pull the blankets over his frail and shivering body. "You sleep well, 'cause I'm going to kick you ass when you wake up…" I told him in a playful voice. The words just hit his ears as he drifts off into a light sleep.
Refusing to leave his side, I sit here, watching him. He looks so at peace resting in his dreams. I wonder what he dreams about. It is probably about his lovely woman, his tainted angel.
He rustled a few times in his sleep, but nothing too bad. Now, though… he is still asleep and I find myself being drawn into that alluring world. I lie down next to him and rest my head on the pillow he sleeps so soundly on.
My smile presses over my lips as I watch his eyes moving softly under their lids. A soft sigh escapes my lips before I close my own eyes and find myself drifting off into a soft and dreamless sleep.
You awoke my dreams. Triggering something of a bittersweet nightmare. I was sitting there, alone, the snow falling down gentle from the heavens. White flakes pressed down on my body and through the darkness ahead of me, you came walking out.
Your hands couldn't reach me. Your touch never lasted. Your image faded into nothing and I was only left with your soft scent. It was a soft and lavender scent. I knew it was you because I had thrived off that scent for so long. It burned me so deep.
All over again I could hear my camera smashing on the ground, but this time… it wasn't just my camera. It was you. My life. My heart. Nothing was left for me and yet I had that scent. That lingering scent comforted me and calmed me. It kept my smile even in the darkness.
The snow. It kept my vision alive. It kept me seeing what wasn't there. It made me see those who loved you pass by with their tears as they knew you were gone. They walked by, wishing you a fond farewell. Wishing you love and happiness wherever you had passed.
And they wished me well. I'm not sure, but I think we were lovers then. You were gone and I was the only memory left of you, other than you old guitar.
My hands were aged. Cracked. Wrinkled. I knew my own death was to come to pass soon enough and I would rest in the same ground you did. I would be in the same heaven or hell as you were. I would no longer be alone with my broken camera and my fading memory. Like a picture book that was fading… my mind was losing even you.
Then all of the sudden, it was gone. All of it faded.
All I could hear now was broken and ragged breathes, hearing him breathing against my ear, his heat wrapping my body up, embracing it, and smothering it.
"Is this real?" he asks me in a quiet and dry voice. His words pierce my chest and I cannot tell him no, but I cannot tell him the truth of yes. I just pull away and look to the side, casting my eyes off.
"Who has the right to classify what is real or not? Life may just be one dream we are disillusioned to think it is real," I murmur out softly to him. I really cannot believe in this life if this is what it had given me so far.
Feeling a strong hand on my shoulder, I knew it was his. Since there was none other in the room and I knew those hands so well, they were obviously his. My eyes press shut from this close feeling and yet know how distant we are.
His arms wrap around me, embracing me like a long lost friend. I could feel his panic in the subtle and comforting touch. It made me almost… relax to know I was missed by him. At least, missed in some sense of the word.
Ah, that scent. I could smell it even now. That gentle lavender tickled my sense of smell and made me shiver slightly from the sweet taste insisted behind it.
I open my eyes to spy a pair of soul-searing, intense eyes. Those eyes that I yearned to look into like this all my life. I don't know why, but this moment felt so real, felt so warm. I could hold him forever like this and never have enough.
My lips part to speak, but before I can utter a single word his finger silences me. "Don't…" he whispers to me softly. It wasn't a scolding, but it was a calm and serene voice.
I cannot help but obey his gentle command. I could never tell him no in my life. My eyes present him a look of question and I seriously am wondering what he is thinking at this moment. I want to be inside that surely beautiful mind of his.
His lips crack open to tell me something, but he stops himself before he can speak and shakes his head. I can see he is struggling to tell me something, but I feel so damn weak and feeble. I can't do a damn thing about it.
"Just tell me…" I say in a small squeak of a voice. Yes, pathetic as it is, my voice is a squeak when I speak those words. I don't want to ruin the air that kept us together.
Examining my eyes he takes me in just as I often took him in. It was a warm and sheltering feeling and I felt like we were the only men on earth in that moment.
In too short of a time, his eyes broke from mine and cast aside. "She… left me again. This time she won't be coming back… and I don't want her to…" he tells me in his steadiest voice he could manage.
My fingers run over his cheek and I sigh softly. "What happened?" I ask him, hoping that I wouldn't be prying into his business, just wanting to be there for him in his moment.
His arms embrace me ever more tightly. I fell like I could die perfectly in this moment and live forever in his touch. That feeling makes me feel like I am everything and could only be nothing at the same moment. It feels like a sinking and swimming feeling, so uncertain and wonderful.
He just shakes his head and then gives me that painful smile that could make any man cry. Err… female, probably. It hurts me to look at him smile when I can read the pain in his eyes. I don't think he realizes just how well I know him.
"Don't do this, Roger…" I tell him in a quiet voice as I run my fingers over his cheek in a strange manner. My eyes try to read into him deeper, but I can tell he had some of his emotions blocked for… whatever reasons.
Just leaning into my hand like an innocent puppy, he looks at me with a soft express. "Do… what?" he asked in a small and innocent voice. He knew damn well what… that's what pissed me off.
My eyes slightly narrow to him and I sigh in defeat from what he has said to me. "Fine… You don't want any help? I'll go away," I tell him as I pull away. My eyes are much more cold now as I push off from the bed with my head hung.
His hand grabs mine and I merely shake it off. "Just don't, Roger. Don't… make this any harder for you," my lips press out. I don't want to hurt him, but in my mind, I think this is the best thing to do.
Behind me I can hear a shifting and I brace as I feel a pair of arms wrap around me. Shit. I didn't want this to happen. Why in the hell was this happening? It has to be another dream, I tell myself assuredly. But… but…
It feels so good to be in his arms. I can't pull away from him. It's just… wonderful feeling like this. I can't pull away from him, even though I know it isn't a dream. My body even slightly relaxes into his touch.
This feeling… I want to fight it. I don't know how, though. It just draws me in. My heart is throbbing in my throat even. Please, let it all end painlessly, just this once.
Tight in my throat, my tears are being chocked out one by one. The clear liquid rolls down my cheeks as they parade alone their path, announcing freedom, along with my pain.
Why did love have to hurt this much? I don't understand how something so pure can be something so vile… It just isn't right. It shouldn't be as such, but it is how it is. If I die only knowing one thing… it is that I don't want to love and yet it is the only feeling I haven't been able to block in my life. The feeling is so betraying and calming.
"Don't leave me…" he whispers into my ear. His breath is heavy and moist on my skin and it feels so strange as his lips brush over the shell of my ear. Tickling me slightly and making me relax even more.
Really… I don't know how to respond to this all. It's something new. I hate it. This is why I am the one behind the camera. I hide. I do disconnect from the world to survive. Damn him for making me live.
His hands start to brush over my sides in a calming fashion and I feel intoxicated by his touch. My body twists within his light grip and I lean up against him. One action leads to another and I press my lips against his.
Realizing what I have done, I tear away and press against the wall. Never did I want it to end up like this. The only thing left is to break down my defenses and cry… Not until now.
"Perhaps it's because I'm the one of us to survive…" I mumble what I had once told him. Now… I knew for certain I 'pretended' to create to disconnect from the world. He knew me too well… and was right about me.
Sliding down the wall, I find myself lost, struggling, gasping for air. Don't let me die, but don't let me survive. I don't want to live past this moment. It hurts. I just want the pain to end. Just make it end.
"Poor baby…" he informs me with a tender voice. His body leans down and he falls to his knees. Without hesitation, he takes me within his arms and holds me close to him. "Just close your eyes… but don't give in to the pain…"
My eyes glaze with tears and I look up to him with an uncertain stare. "Aren't you the one who is supposed to be comforted?" I whimper out to him. This is all I can think of saying to him. I can't tell him thanks, only this.
When his head shakes, my heart melts. This isn't how the story is supposed to go. It isn't supposed to be written like this. What fates made life this way? They don't know what a story is. They don't know how things are supposed to work. They wrote me wrong. I'm supposed to be the narrator, not an active character in life.
As I close my eyes, as he had instructed of me, I feel a swelling in my chest… and his lips. This time it isn't I who made a mistake of joining the cast. He forced me back on stage. He forced me to be a player in the comedy of life.
Those strong lips against mine, they felt so glorious and strong. Slightly cracked, but only from being weathered. The pressure is so light and frail; I don't want to break it as if I were to break a life form if I did. He truly is taking my breath away.
There is nothing left but him. He is my life and he is my death. The script has been burned and I am basking in the flames. They tickle, really. Almost like a softly licking across my skin.
Wait. Maybe that's Roger. Oh, what is he doing to me? This strange sensation… it was perfect. I don't want it to stop, but… I have to stop it. "Roger…" I whisper out in a gentle moaning. I know he didn't hear me as he continues on. Or, he did and just ignores that I said anything. "Roger…" I protest more.
"Ung… Guh… Huh? What?" he asks me in a drugged voice as he pulls his head up from my stomach. His hair is all scruffy now, rather sexy, actually. Hey, how did he get to my stomach? Fuck… I am really out of it.
I close my eyes, knowing that if I actually look at him… I would be lost in him. "Roger…" I moan out in the best control I have. "I can't… I'm not used to this… I don't know how…"
"Shut up…" he cuts me off and presses his lips against mine. "I'm not letting you go… ever," he murmurs to me and presses me down on the bed, silencing my protests for the rest of our lives.
**********
A/N: Sorry the ending was really lame. ;_; I couldn't think of anything… and… meep. I just wanted to get this thing done. *puffy sigh* I might write another part to this, but not sure. Might just write a different fic itself. Heh. Hope you liked it… please R/R?