A/N: Hey it's Mari over here. Yes, I'm starting yet another fic, but when inspiration strikes, who the hell am I to knock it by not posting my idea? November and Red Lipgloss will be finished, I promise you that much. When, I can't exactly say. But they will, because I hate leaving things hanging. I'm just at a bit of writer's block. As for this story, it's pretty well thought out and is a whole mesh of ideas pulled into one story. I actually had an idea for this awhile ago and jotted a few things down here and there and made the foundation for it. So enjoy, and leave me nice reviews. Because I love reading them, and I love you guys! 33
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You came in with the breeze on Sunday morningYou sure have changed since yesterday without any warning
"You gonna be here on time tonight, right Davis? Because you know how the crowds are."
Roger nodded and adjusted his beaten leather jacket. "Yeah. Whatever. Because there's just that great of a fucking demand for vodka shots on a Sunday night."
"Do me a favor and keep the attitude in check tonight?"
"Sure."
"Later."
Roger closed the door behind him and headed down the street. He couldn't even form a thought in his head before the familiar vibration of his cell phone went off in his pocket. He pulled it out and stared at the digital screen. "Mark" flashed in this corner, along with a shitty ring tone that he hated, but was too lazy to change. He shoved it back in his pocket before turning the corner and heading straight into Tompkins Square Park. Mark could wait another five minutes until he got home.
This was probably the only decent part of his walk home. The people that usually gathered where always interesting, if not downright weird. Not that he was Mr. Normal himself. He kicked a few stones out of the way as he walked, just to preoccupy himself. It was days like these that he'd rather spend in bed, sleeping the day away until Mark dragged him out of his room and forced him to go to work.
Speaking of days like these, it was fucking cold out for October. It was cloudy, and the rain felt like a cold mist. A week before Halloween. Three years since Angel's death. Two and a half since Mimi's. He really didn't want to fucking think about any of this right now. It just made him want to shove his head in a pillow and sleep for the next five days.
So he kept walking and thinking. He passed a small crowd of people hovered around the Man and rolled his eyes. Now his walk was completely ruined altogether. He looked up as he kept walking. God, this was boring. It never took this long to get home.
He probably should have been paying more attention, but considering it wasn't that crowded in the park, he didn't think twice about it. That was until he ran into someone, or rather, someone ran into him.
He stumbled back and instinctively reached out to grab the other person's arm. "Jesus Christ," he muttered, finally catching a look at the person he had collided with. "Sorry."
She was tiny, but not as small as Mimi. Probably close to 5'4, where Mimi had been barely five feet. Her dark brown hair was pulled back off her face in a low ponytail, and her mascara was smudged a little underneath her eyes. She looked at him and glared. "Yeah. Whatever, asshole." She pulled her arm out of his hand and moved to the side in an attempt to get past him.
Roger blocked her from moving and she looked up at him again, except this time she didn't glare. The look etched on her face was a cross between anger and fear. At least that's what he read from it. "Look, I'm sorry for smacking into you, but I'm not an asshole."
"You live in New York City, don't you?"
"Yeah."
"Then you're an asshole."
Roger smirked at her. "Why do you say that?"
"You're a good looking guy who obviously has someplace important to go or some equally good looking model to go home too. Who you're probably fucking behind your other girlfriend's back. And I bet she doesn't even know about it, which makes you an asshole. No, what's even better, is that you look like one. All good looking guys are assholes. Whatever your name is, you're an asshole," she finished.
"Roger." He stared at her. She looked pretty upset, but still had that look of fear on her face. "I'm single."
"I'm Julie, and I don't care," she said quietly. She moved past him and started walking away from him, not even bothering to look back over her shoulder.
"Um. Okay?" he called after her. "Don't you have a last name?"
"Why? I'm no one important anyway. I'm lost in the crowd. You'll never see me again."
Roger took a final look over his own shoulder and kept walking. There were some really fucking weird people in that park.
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He kicked off his boots and walked into the kitchen. Mark was sitting at the table, writing something on a piece of paper, but he looked up when he heard him come in.
"Hey. I called. You didn't answer."
"I was down the street. I didn't want to waste my minutes."
Mark laughed at this. "Yeah, because so many people are calling you."
Roger dumped his pills into his hand and downed them with a glass of water. "Do you hang out in the park a lot?"
He shrugged. "Sometimes I go there to film. Why?"
"There's a lot of weird people in that park. Weird shit."
Mark laughed again. "What the fuck are you going on about? It's like a three minute walk home from the bar. What happened?"
"Nothing—just forget it." He walked away and sat down on the old couch.
"No seriously, what happened?"
Roger shook his head stubbornly. "Nothing."
"Roger."
"I just ran into someone."
Mark stared at him and tossed the paper he had been writing on the coffee table. "Yeah? I run into people all the time."
"Girls?"
"Um, yeah." Mark grinned at this. "Oh I know what this is about. You picked someone up didn't you."
"No, I just got called an asshole by a girl that I ran into by accident."
"So? People get pissed off for some reason when you run into them. It's not a big deal."
Roger sighed. "No, but it was different. She looked upset when I ran into her."
"Like I said, people get pissed off when you run into them."
"That's not what I meant. She looked upset. Like she had been crying or something."
"And she called you an asshole? Roger, people have called you worse. Male and female. But you don't worry about it as much as you are now."
"She looked scared."
Mark bit his lip and looked at him. "If I was a girl and I ran into you I probably be scared too. First of all, you're over six feet tall. She probably thought you were going to attack her or something."
"I would never—do that to a woman."
"Rape?"
"Yeah that."
"Roger you're definitely reading into this way too much. You're probably just overtired and you ran into some girl that was having a bad day. Go hang out at the park tomorrow. Maybe she'll come back. Then you can stalk her," he joked.
"Ha ha, you're not funny." Roger stood up and yawned. "I probably am reading into this too much. I'm going to sleep."
"Have fun."
"Night." Roger looked at the clock on the wall and noticed it read seven am. "Morning. I think I need to cut back on shifts, I'm fucking myself up on sleep."
He closed his bedroom door and collapsed on his bed, pulling the sheets over him. It was colder in his room than it was outside, and he couldn't get warm, no matter what he did. He flipped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. So that girl was just a person he ran into. No big deal, right? There's always someone you end up running into wherever you go. But that wasn't the part that got him the most, and he hadn't explained that to Mark.
"I'm lost in the crowd…"
He sort of wished he had gone after her now. He was really curious as to what had made her say what she did. Partially because he used to feel the same way, and still knew the feeling all too well.
He was definitely reading into this entirely too much, and if he didn't fall asleep right now, he'd never be able to get up for his shift later that day.
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