A/N: Sorry about the horrible formatting in the last chapter. I don't know what happened. Whenever I had "…" it turned into just a single period, leaving a whole lot of sentences looking really weird. And, all my italics disappeared. So in this chapter, thoughts are in "*".
Disclaimer: I still don't own Mark, Roger, the rest of the characters, any of the songs, basically anything from RENT. Jonathan Larson and whoever inherited it from him does. And since someone asked…the title "Someone To Live For" comes from "Goodbye Love", that line that Mimi and Joanne sing, "I'd be happy to die for a taste of what Angel had, someone to live for, unafraid to say I love you!"
Warning: Will be Mark/Roger slash later on. If you don't like slash that little button with an 'x' in the top right corner is for you. Don't say I didn't warn you.
Rating: PG-13 for some language, violence, angst, and sexual implications.
Mark awoke to a cold bed and a chilling breeze coming in the open window. It was snowing outside. No wonder he was freezing. The tattered blankets had been pulled off him and were left carelessly on the floor. That reminded him. He had a visitor. A visitor who technically never stopped living here, and had just left Mark with the rent and never said if he was moving back in or not. Still, Mark considered Roger only a visitor. Perhaps that was all he had ever been. Someone who would drop by occasionally and talk, but never do anything substantial or lasting.
*Oh God…shit*, Mark thought. He remembered what he had to tell Roger. He had to tell him to get out. He couldn't be here, not now, he couldn't ruin everything. Mark couldn't let himself be ruined all over again. He had been so close to being under control and he would NOT just allow that to be taken away by a drunk, abusive roommate.
A drunk, abusive roommate who Mark secretly cared about more than anyone in the world. But of course, Roger didn't know this. Not anymore. Mark had shown him that care a long time ago, back when he'd received it in return. And he was still very kind to the musician, but he just figured, what was the point of putting in the extra effort if he was getting nothing in return?
"You'd still watch out for him", sneered that voice again. Who was talking? Mark looked around him frantically, desperate to find a face to put to the voice. But no one was there. It was all in his head. He clasped his hands over his ears hoping to drive the voice out of him, but it never worked. Mark had been talking to himself for quite sometime, since there was no one else to talk to. This solitude had been slowly driving him insane.
*And towards much more depressing thoughts* he added to himself grimly. But Mark would not allow himself to dwell there right now. He had a job to do. He had no idea how in the hell he was going to do it, but he was going to try nonetheless. So he timidly pushed open the bedroom door. "Roger?" he asked meekly.
Roger glanced up from the cereal he was pouring. "Hey," he said, obviously trying hard to keep his face emotionless.
"Umm…sleep well?" asked Mark cautiously.
Roger just nodded. They sat there in silence for several moments, both trying to become accustomed to the other's presence again. Mark was simply remembering when he had been perfectly comfortable next to Roger, and talking wasn't needed. But now he feared more than anything that talking only exposed secrets that no one should know.
Roger spoke suddenly, his voice a bit harsh from what was an obvious hangover. "Where's Mimi?"
Mark sighed. He should have known that was coming. *Of course, thinking of myself again*. Mark hated when he thought of himself before everyone else. He felt so arrogant. Perhaps that was why he remained behind the camera, instead of in front of it. Something which Roger had criticized him quite painfully for. Mark buried his face in his hands, pushing scraggly blond hair out of his eyes and trying to decide how to begin the story of the past few years. Or if he should even tell it.
"Roger…I don't know what to tell you. Nothing with make you happy. Mimi's gone. She's gone, Roger, we haven't seen her since you left."
Roger stared at him, confusion growing in his eyes. "She…she didn't say where she was going?"
Mark meekly shook his head. "She just said she was going out for awhile, but she never came back. I'm sorry Roger, but I don't think you should get your hopes up. Remember…she told us, she said she'd die without you…"
Roger's confusion quickly turned to anger. The musician had always been known for unpredictable and often violent mood swings. Mark gulped and tensed. "So you are saying she's dead?" Roger growled.
"I'm just…suggesting…she might be. She needed you and you just…you just left. So she left too. Only for good." Mark reflected on the irony of those words. Roger had left him too. And sinking deeper into what became a cold and lonely life, Mark had been dangerously close to leaving for good as well.
"What the hell, Mark?" Roger nearly shouted. "I come back and the first thing you do is try to tell me my girlfriend's dead? I've got news for you, Mark. Love doesn't kill you. Weakness kills you. Mimi isn't weak. I am not –"
Roger stopped and stood up suddenly, pacing over to the dirty window. But Mark knew what he had been about to say. 'I am not weak.' *Oh God…AIDS is getting to him.* Mark wanted more than anything to just hold Roger and tell him that he would be there for him through this, that he could survive. But it wasn't true. Roger wouldn't let Mark be there, and AIDS victims didn't survive.
Mark sighed and stood to follow Roger. But as he gently tapped the musician on his back, all he received in return was an angry snarl. "Get away from me, Mark."
Mark just stood where he was. It was now or never. It was now or never that he finally held his ground and confronted his problems with Roger. So he swallowed his fear and began. "Roger, Mimi left because she was alone. When you walked away from her…you don't know what that's like. You'll never know what that's like until you watch someone you love walk away from you. But you never will, will you? Because you won't let yourself get close enough to anyone to ever see their pain. Only your own."
Mark faltered for a moment. Roger had turned around and was glaring icily at him.
"Look, I'm just saying, you have to stop running from your problems and hiding from your emotions. I would know, I…well, the last year has been hard, Roger. You hurt a lot of people by leaving, not just Mimi. But she took it worst of all. You said love can't kill you. Well, loneliness can."
Roger simply stared back at Mark for several moments. The filmmaker had never had this much courage to stand up to anyone. He usually just watched as other people yelled at him, gently complying, never standing up for himself. But Roger wasn't ready to believe what Mark had to say. He wasn't ready to believe a lot of things.
"Dammit, Mark, what are you trying to say? That you can't survive without me and that I will always have to be here to watch out for you? Well, that's too bad. Too bad that you can't damn well take care of yourself, because I have my own life, however screwed up it is. Oh, and another thing, loneliness doesn't kill. Loneliness can't kill. Angel died with Collins. Or maybe you've forgotten. Ahh, yes, you were still living behind your pathetic camera, weren't you? So how could you really see what was going on in front of it? Lenses only jade you, Mark." Roger finished this in a near yell, and Mark fought hard to keep his fear from showing.
"Angel…Angel died when he was ready. He…he was happy. That's so much better to dying alone and cold, but…you'll never know. You…you won't…"
Roger snickered, presumably at Mark's inability to get words out through what were surely barely retained tears. Then, in another amazing display of shifting moods, the musician simply grabbed his coat and headed for the door. "I'm going out. Don't wait for me."
Mark waited until he heard the door slam, then curled up on the sofa and cried.