Disclaimers and summary on first chapter
Notes: Pretty sizeable jump in time here. From wherever I left off to the last day of school. Approximately 6 weeks later. Oh and Roger's car has that kind of crazy front seat where it's one long bench thingy and there's no space in the middle. It's vital to their flourishing relationship to know that.
Oh and also the bit about the dislocated shoulder is based on my own experience. I dislocated an arm playing soccer and my coach (a registered nurse) popped it back in for me. Obviously it wasn't serious or she couldn't have done it. I think it was only partially dislocated, so assume that's what happened here. May I add it hurt like fucking hell? Cause it did.
Chapter 22 -I've Never Wanted Anything More-
+Mark's POV+ -6 weeks later-
I glance over at Roger nervously. Even though I agreed to cut the last day of school with him, for the past few weeks I've hardly spoken to him. He makes me nervous and I'll get flustered and forget how to talk around him, mumbling unintelligibly. He looks over at me.
"What's wrong with you? We never hang out anymore, and when we do you just sit there and stare. Did I do something?"
Other than exist? No, Roger, no.
I shrug at him. "Nothing, really." I say softly.
"Nothing?" I cringe when he yells. "Bullshit, Mark! What did I do to make you uncomfortable? I don't care if you're mad at me, I just want to know why!"
I hate hearing him yell. I continue to try and shrink away until he notices. Immediately his voice is quieter, his tone apologetic. If he hadn't been driving he might have reached out for me.
"God Mark, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. . ."
"Forget it."
"No, really. Honestly, Mark, I didn't. . ."
I stop listening to him, concentrating on the sounds outside the car.
The car stops. I look up and then at him, we're in front of my house.
"I figured you might have just wanted to go home." He says sadly.
I shrug. My dad's at work, my mom spending the day with her sister, my own sister at the mall, she graduated last week. No one's home to know I'm skipping. I might as well.
I look back over at Roger, who's watching me warily.
"Why don't you come in for awhile? I ask him hesitantly.
"Really? Are you. . ."
"Yeah, it's fine."
He follows me out of the car and to the door.
"Want something to drink?" I ask him when we're inside.
"Water, sure. Thanks." He says as I hand him a glass. I take one of my own and start up the stairs toward my room. He follows me and sits beside me on my bed when we're inside my room. We sit in silence for a minute, drinking, until he breaks the silence.
"So what is it, Mark? What's bothering. . ."
"I think I like you." I blurt out, then immediately cover my mouth with my hand.
He looks over at me in shock.
"What?"
I hadn't planned on this, hadn't planned on saying anything. I'm fucked now.
I don't look at him, I can't. "I think that I, uh, like you."
"Mark, really?" He asks hesitantly, softly. Still looking away, I nod slightly. It's true, I think.
"Can you look at me? Look at me when you say things like that?"
Slowly I start to bring my head back around. My eyes meet his and I know it has to be true. Terrified as I am of what this means, when he lays his hand over mine I know I've never wanted anything more in my life. He brings his face down to mine, and this time I don't object. His lips meet mine and I sigh against them. His other hand goes to my shoulder and I wrap my arms around his body and pull him closer. The feel of his lips pressing onto mine is making me dizzy, my skin is burning under his hands. There are footsteps on the stairs.
I push Roger away from me as my door opens. Closing my eyes, I pray it's my mother, but know it's not. How could I have forgotten that on Fridays my father comes home early from work?
"Why the hell are you home?" I hear. "And who's car is that out. . ."
I know he's seen Roger, who I hope is looking as innocent as possible.
"Why are you here?" I'm about to reply, but Roger cuts me off.
"Well," He starts out, his voice calm, reserved. "It was a short day so I gave Mark a ride home and now we're just mak. . ." He falters for a minute when I glare at him before he made the fatal mistake of saying 'making out'. "Hanging out."
Except for his little slip at the end, his tone and confidence might have convinced another parent, but my father doesn't buy it for minute. He starts toward us, grabbing my arm and pulling me off of the bed. I cry out in pain, I feel something pop in my shoulder.
"What are you doing to him?" He shouts at Roger.
"Jesus, don't hurt him!" Roger yells back, standing up.
"Get out you fucking faggot!"
Roger narrows his eyes, I see him crack his knuckles and take a step forward.
"Roger, no!" I say. I try to move out of my father's grip, but he squeezes tighter and I gasp when I feel the extra pressure. Roger looks unsure of what to do. I can see he wants to help me, but doesn't want to do anything that I won't like or that will get me in more trouble. My father lets go of my arm roughly, pushing me so I stumble into Roger. He steadies me, leaving his hands protectively on my shoulders.
"You want to go with him? Go, don't bother coming back."
I stare at my father in shock.
"Go! Go on!"
I shrink back against Roger when he yells. Immediately I regret it because it upsets him.
"Don't yell at him." Roger says to my father, his voice low, dangerous. I honestly don't know which of them is stronger, but at that moment I'm thoroughly convinced it's Roger. My father raises his eyebrows, at his tone or audacity I don't know, but returns to his angry stance soon enough.
"Get out of my house!" I tremble at the volume, but I've made up my mind. I reach for Roger's hand and pull him with me when I leave the room. We hurry down the stairs together and to his car.
He keeps looking over at me, nervous, hesitant. I keep my eyes fixed out the window, staring at the ground moving under the car.
I feel a wetness gathering in my eyes and try to blink it away, determined not to cry. Not over my father, he's not worth it, and not in front of Roger. It's too late though, he sees the hand I'm trying to hide that's rubbing at my eyes.
"Mark? Mark, it's ok. I mean, you can. . ."
"No I can't." I tell him, trying to keep my voice normal. "I don't cry."
He takes one hand off the wheel and lays it on my arm.
"Mark, really. It's alright."
I know it's not and he knows it's not but when I look over at him he smiles at me and I take my seatbelt off and move across the long bench seat. He puts his arm around my shoulders and I close my eyes and lay my head against his shoulder. Not much later he stops the car and I open my eyes.
"Where. . ."
"My house." He tells me. He opens his door and starts to get out. He holds out his hands for me and I take one, but pull my left arm away as soon as I move it. He stares at me in shock.
"What's wrong?" Then he remembers and his eyebrows shoot upwards. "Oh! Your arm!" Gently he helps me out of the car, and then he takes my other hand and leads me inside.
"Roger? That you?" I hear a pleasant female voice coming from the kitchen.
"Yeah." He calls back. He tugs on my hand and I follow him into the kitchen.
The woman I see standing in the kitchen is pretty, she looks a lot like Roger, but appears tired, weary. She smiles at me and it's Roger's smile, without the laughter or the life behind it.
"Well I don't think I've met you before." She says, looking at me.
"This is my, uh," He looks over at me and I shake my head at him. "My friend, Mark."
"It's nice that you're here, Mark." She turns around for a moment, then back to us, holding a plate out in front of her.
"Have a cookie, boys."
We each take one; I let go of Roger's hand so I don't have to move my left arm. Roger notices and remembers.
"Hey, mom? Mark hurt his arm. Do you think you could. . ."
But she's already at my side. I look over at it for the first time. It hangs at kind of an odd angle. She lays her hands on it and gently feels up and down along my arm, then on my shoulder, which burns with pain when she touches it. I look over at Roger.
"It's alright, she's a nurse." He tells me, letting his hand rest on my shoulder. While his mother's concentrating on my arm I feel his lips on the back of my neck for a few brief moments and I smile slightly.
"It's just dislocated, hun. I can fix it for you, it'll hurt for a second though."
I nod slowly and reach for Roger's hand. He takes mine and squeezes it tightly and I look up at him, and he smiles at me reassuringly.
"She's done it for me before, don't worry."
I feel her grip on my arm and I close my eyes. When she asks if I'm ready I nod and then gasp and cry out. She moves my arm for me and it's still sore, but no longer throbs in pain when I move it.
"Better?" She asks.
I nod. "Thanks."
She smiles and hands Roger the plate of cookies.
"Why don't you both stay in Roger's room for a while? Want me to make you something to drink?"
"I'll just get some water." Says Roger.
"I'm going to make some tea, you sure you don't want any?"
Roger makes a face. "That's alright, mom. Unless Mark wants some."
I shrug. "Sure." I've never really drank tea before, but she seems like the kind of mother that would get offended if you don't accept their offers of food.
"Alright. Boys, just go upstairs. I'll bring it up, yes your water too, Roger."
Roger holds out the plate to me and I take another cookie and follow him upstairs.
We both sit on his bed, same as we did before and Roger sets the plate between us. He looks over at me hesitantly.
"Mark?"
"Yeah?"
"Are we. . .?" He trails off.
"Together?"
He nods. I shrug.
"I don't know. I think, I think I might want us to be." I say nervously. I feel his hand over mine and slowly we lean together till out lips meet again. I touch his face, letting my fingers run over his strong jaw, through his hair, I let my hand rest on the back of his neck and we pull apart, breathless. He moves the plate and slides closer so our bodies touch. He kisses my neck, my collarbone, letting his lips rest where neck and shoulder meet. I lay my hand on his arm, feeling the muscle there. At this moment there is nothing to convince me that he's not perfect and that this shouldn't last forever, until I hear his mom in the hallway.
I don't push him this time, just move away. His mom comes in holding a mug for me and a glass for Roger.
"Here you go boys. Mark, are you going to be here a while?"
I look over at Roger and he nods at me.
"Yeah, he's spending the night."
"Alright, that's fine. What do you want for dinner?"
Roger shrugs. "Whatever's around, don't make anything big, mom."
"But we have company, Roger." She smiles. "I'll order in Chinese, ok?"
Roger cringes. "Mom that'll be really expen. . ."
"Oh it'll be fine. "She checks her watch. "I'll order it in a few hours, ok?"
"Sure, mom." Roger sighs.
I feel guilty for making his mom think she needs to have a real dinner, but I don't say anything because in all honesty, I love Chinese food.
She smiles at us again, then closes the door on her way out.
"She's so nice."
Roger grins. "I know. And if it makes you feel any better, she doesn't like April either."
I smile. "Something we have in common."
"She's pretty great, almost cool, you know? For a mom."
"Does she know you're. . ."
He shrugs. "I don't know. I don't think she understands, because I like girls too." He looks at me to see how I take that. I don't react so he continues. "She wouldn't care, she just doesn't really know. I've never had a reason to tell her."
He's silent for a minute and he looks away. When he looks at me again, his expression has changed and is now one of concern.
"Do you think your dad meant what he said?"
I move back beside Roger and lean against his shoulder. He puts his arm around me.
"I don't know. I'll give him time to settle down, and wait for my mom to come home. She'll at least listen to me. She normally won't stand up to him, but I don't think she'll let him kick me out."
He kisses my temple and rests his head against mine.
"What happened with your father?" I ask him. "Why doesn't he live here?"
I feel him stiffen beside me.
"Not today, Mark. I'll tell you, but not today." He rubs his hand up and down my sore arm. "You've got enough to deal with."
I move my head and kiss his chin gently. He smiles at me, then presses his lips over mine. I settle back into his arms and he holds me close. I forget I've ever had any other thoughts besides ones of being with him.
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Notes Continued: Dear God that was a long chapter! More to come soon, though it might not be till Monday. Enjoy and thank you for reading/reviewing, you guys make my day!
Notes: Pretty sizeable jump in time here. From wherever I left off to the last day of school. Approximately 6 weeks later. Oh and Roger's car has that kind of crazy front seat where it's one long bench thingy and there's no space in the middle. It's vital to their flourishing relationship to know that.
Oh and also the bit about the dislocated shoulder is based on my own experience. I dislocated an arm playing soccer and my coach (a registered nurse) popped it back in for me. Obviously it wasn't serious or she couldn't have done it. I think it was only partially dislocated, so assume that's what happened here. May I add it hurt like fucking hell? Cause it did.
Chapter 22 -I've Never Wanted Anything More-
+Mark's POV+ -6 weeks later-
I glance over at Roger nervously. Even though I agreed to cut the last day of school with him, for the past few weeks I've hardly spoken to him. He makes me nervous and I'll get flustered and forget how to talk around him, mumbling unintelligibly. He looks over at me.
"What's wrong with you? We never hang out anymore, and when we do you just sit there and stare. Did I do something?"
Other than exist? No, Roger, no.
I shrug at him. "Nothing, really." I say softly.
"Nothing?" I cringe when he yells. "Bullshit, Mark! What did I do to make you uncomfortable? I don't care if you're mad at me, I just want to know why!"
I hate hearing him yell. I continue to try and shrink away until he notices. Immediately his voice is quieter, his tone apologetic. If he hadn't been driving he might have reached out for me.
"God Mark, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. . ."
"Forget it."
"No, really. Honestly, Mark, I didn't. . ."
I stop listening to him, concentrating on the sounds outside the car.
The car stops. I look up and then at him, we're in front of my house.
"I figured you might have just wanted to go home." He says sadly.
I shrug. My dad's at work, my mom spending the day with her sister, my own sister at the mall, she graduated last week. No one's home to know I'm skipping. I might as well.
I look back over at Roger, who's watching me warily.
"Why don't you come in for awhile? I ask him hesitantly.
"Really? Are you. . ."
"Yeah, it's fine."
He follows me out of the car and to the door.
"Want something to drink?" I ask him when we're inside.
"Water, sure. Thanks." He says as I hand him a glass. I take one of my own and start up the stairs toward my room. He follows me and sits beside me on my bed when we're inside my room. We sit in silence for a minute, drinking, until he breaks the silence.
"So what is it, Mark? What's bothering. . ."
"I think I like you." I blurt out, then immediately cover my mouth with my hand.
He looks over at me in shock.
"What?"
I hadn't planned on this, hadn't planned on saying anything. I'm fucked now.
I don't look at him, I can't. "I think that I, uh, like you."
"Mark, really?" He asks hesitantly, softly. Still looking away, I nod slightly. It's true, I think.
"Can you look at me? Look at me when you say things like that?"
Slowly I start to bring my head back around. My eyes meet his and I know it has to be true. Terrified as I am of what this means, when he lays his hand over mine I know I've never wanted anything more in my life. He brings his face down to mine, and this time I don't object. His lips meet mine and I sigh against them. His other hand goes to my shoulder and I wrap my arms around his body and pull him closer. The feel of his lips pressing onto mine is making me dizzy, my skin is burning under his hands. There are footsteps on the stairs.
I push Roger away from me as my door opens. Closing my eyes, I pray it's my mother, but know it's not. How could I have forgotten that on Fridays my father comes home early from work?
"Why the hell are you home?" I hear. "And who's car is that out. . ."
I know he's seen Roger, who I hope is looking as innocent as possible.
"Why are you here?" I'm about to reply, but Roger cuts me off.
"Well," He starts out, his voice calm, reserved. "It was a short day so I gave Mark a ride home and now we're just mak. . ." He falters for a minute when I glare at him before he made the fatal mistake of saying 'making out'. "Hanging out."
Except for his little slip at the end, his tone and confidence might have convinced another parent, but my father doesn't buy it for minute. He starts toward us, grabbing my arm and pulling me off of the bed. I cry out in pain, I feel something pop in my shoulder.
"What are you doing to him?" He shouts at Roger.
"Jesus, don't hurt him!" Roger yells back, standing up.
"Get out you fucking faggot!"
Roger narrows his eyes, I see him crack his knuckles and take a step forward.
"Roger, no!" I say. I try to move out of my father's grip, but he squeezes tighter and I gasp when I feel the extra pressure. Roger looks unsure of what to do. I can see he wants to help me, but doesn't want to do anything that I won't like or that will get me in more trouble. My father lets go of my arm roughly, pushing me so I stumble into Roger. He steadies me, leaving his hands protectively on my shoulders.
"You want to go with him? Go, don't bother coming back."
I stare at my father in shock.
"Go! Go on!"
I shrink back against Roger when he yells. Immediately I regret it because it upsets him.
"Don't yell at him." Roger says to my father, his voice low, dangerous. I honestly don't know which of them is stronger, but at that moment I'm thoroughly convinced it's Roger. My father raises his eyebrows, at his tone or audacity I don't know, but returns to his angry stance soon enough.
"Get out of my house!" I tremble at the volume, but I've made up my mind. I reach for Roger's hand and pull him with me when I leave the room. We hurry down the stairs together and to his car.
He keeps looking over at me, nervous, hesitant. I keep my eyes fixed out the window, staring at the ground moving under the car.
I feel a wetness gathering in my eyes and try to blink it away, determined not to cry. Not over my father, he's not worth it, and not in front of Roger. It's too late though, he sees the hand I'm trying to hide that's rubbing at my eyes.
"Mark? Mark, it's ok. I mean, you can. . ."
"No I can't." I tell him, trying to keep my voice normal. "I don't cry."
He takes one hand off the wheel and lays it on my arm.
"Mark, really. It's alright."
I know it's not and he knows it's not but when I look over at him he smiles at me and I take my seatbelt off and move across the long bench seat. He puts his arm around my shoulders and I close my eyes and lay my head against his shoulder. Not much later he stops the car and I open my eyes.
"Where. . ."
"My house." He tells me. He opens his door and starts to get out. He holds out his hands for me and I take one, but pull my left arm away as soon as I move it. He stares at me in shock.
"What's wrong?" Then he remembers and his eyebrows shoot upwards. "Oh! Your arm!" Gently he helps me out of the car, and then he takes my other hand and leads me inside.
"Roger? That you?" I hear a pleasant female voice coming from the kitchen.
"Yeah." He calls back. He tugs on my hand and I follow him into the kitchen.
The woman I see standing in the kitchen is pretty, she looks a lot like Roger, but appears tired, weary. She smiles at me and it's Roger's smile, without the laughter or the life behind it.
"Well I don't think I've met you before." She says, looking at me.
"This is my, uh," He looks over at me and I shake my head at him. "My friend, Mark."
"It's nice that you're here, Mark." She turns around for a moment, then back to us, holding a plate out in front of her.
"Have a cookie, boys."
We each take one; I let go of Roger's hand so I don't have to move my left arm. Roger notices and remembers.
"Hey, mom? Mark hurt his arm. Do you think you could. . ."
But she's already at my side. I look over at it for the first time. It hangs at kind of an odd angle. She lays her hands on it and gently feels up and down along my arm, then on my shoulder, which burns with pain when she touches it. I look over at Roger.
"It's alright, she's a nurse." He tells me, letting his hand rest on my shoulder. While his mother's concentrating on my arm I feel his lips on the back of my neck for a few brief moments and I smile slightly.
"It's just dislocated, hun. I can fix it for you, it'll hurt for a second though."
I nod slowly and reach for Roger's hand. He takes mine and squeezes it tightly and I look up at him, and he smiles at me reassuringly.
"She's done it for me before, don't worry."
I feel her grip on my arm and I close my eyes. When she asks if I'm ready I nod and then gasp and cry out. She moves my arm for me and it's still sore, but no longer throbs in pain when I move it.
"Better?" She asks.
I nod. "Thanks."
She smiles and hands Roger the plate of cookies.
"Why don't you both stay in Roger's room for a while? Want me to make you something to drink?"
"I'll just get some water." Says Roger.
"I'm going to make some tea, you sure you don't want any?"
Roger makes a face. "That's alright, mom. Unless Mark wants some."
I shrug. "Sure." I've never really drank tea before, but she seems like the kind of mother that would get offended if you don't accept their offers of food.
"Alright. Boys, just go upstairs. I'll bring it up, yes your water too, Roger."
Roger holds out the plate to me and I take another cookie and follow him upstairs.
We both sit on his bed, same as we did before and Roger sets the plate between us. He looks over at me hesitantly.
"Mark?"
"Yeah?"
"Are we. . .?" He trails off.
"Together?"
He nods. I shrug.
"I don't know. I think, I think I might want us to be." I say nervously. I feel his hand over mine and slowly we lean together till out lips meet again. I touch his face, letting my fingers run over his strong jaw, through his hair, I let my hand rest on the back of his neck and we pull apart, breathless. He moves the plate and slides closer so our bodies touch. He kisses my neck, my collarbone, letting his lips rest where neck and shoulder meet. I lay my hand on his arm, feeling the muscle there. At this moment there is nothing to convince me that he's not perfect and that this shouldn't last forever, until I hear his mom in the hallway.
I don't push him this time, just move away. His mom comes in holding a mug for me and a glass for Roger.
"Here you go boys. Mark, are you going to be here a while?"
I look over at Roger and he nods at me.
"Yeah, he's spending the night."
"Alright, that's fine. What do you want for dinner?"
Roger shrugs. "Whatever's around, don't make anything big, mom."
"But we have company, Roger." She smiles. "I'll order in Chinese, ok?"
Roger cringes. "Mom that'll be really expen. . ."
"Oh it'll be fine. "She checks her watch. "I'll order it in a few hours, ok?"
"Sure, mom." Roger sighs.
I feel guilty for making his mom think she needs to have a real dinner, but I don't say anything because in all honesty, I love Chinese food.
She smiles at us again, then closes the door on her way out.
"She's so nice."
Roger grins. "I know. And if it makes you feel any better, she doesn't like April either."
I smile. "Something we have in common."
"She's pretty great, almost cool, you know? For a mom."
"Does she know you're. . ."
He shrugs. "I don't know. I don't think she understands, because I like girls too." He looks at me to see how I take that. I don't react so he continues. "She wouldn't care, she just doesn't really know. I've never had a reason to tell her."
He's silent for a minute and he looks away. When he looks at me again, his expression has changed and is now one of concern.
"Do you think your dad meant what he said?"
I move back beside Roger and lean against his shoulder. He puts his arm around me.
"I don't know. I'll give him time to settle down, and wait for my mom to come home. She'll at least listen to me. She normally won't stand up to him, but I don't think she'll let him kick me out."
He kisses my temple and rests his head against mine.
"What happened with your father?" I ask him. "Why doesn't he live here?"
I feel him stiffen beside me.
"Not today, Mark. I'll tell you, but not today." He rubs his hand up and down my sore arm. "You've got enough to deal with."
I move my head and kiss his chin gently. He smiles at me, then presses his lips over mine. I settle back into his arms and he holds me close. I forget I've ever had any other thoughts besides ones of being with him.
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Notes Continued: Dear God that was a long chapter! More to come soon, though it might not be till Monday. Enjoy and thank you for reading/reviewing, you guys make my day!