Disclaimers and summary on first chapter
Notes: Filler chapter, not much really happens. Roger and Marky being mushy at the hospital, Roger and Marky being mushy at home. Fun for the whole family. :D enjoy!
Chapter 36 -To Me At Least-
+Mark's POV+
Though the paramedics had reluctantly let me ride in the ambulance with him, I'm separated from Roger as soon as we get to the hospital. I walk around the waiting room, kicking the chairs, frustrated. The receptionist glares at me. I can't help the fact that after almost two hours I'm a little anxious to find out what happened to Roger. My throat feels really dry and sore.
I dig my hand into my pocket and come up with two dollars. I look over at the receptionist.
"Where's the cafeteria?" I ask her.
She rolls her eyes and points at a floor map of the hospital. I sigh and walk over to it, figure out it's in the basement, and head for the elevator.
I buy myself a small Styrofoam cup of coffee. I hate the taste of it. How does Roger, or anyone for that matter, drink this? I take one more drink, cringe and throw the half full cup away.
"Mark?"
I turn around and see Roger's mom. I had forgotten she was a nurse. She's holding a cup of coffee identical to the one I just tossed.
"What're you doing here, hun?" She asks, smiling.
"Roger's here." No point in hiding it from her, he's her son.
Her free hand goes to her chest.
"What?"
"Some of his friends dropped him off in front of your house and drove off. He passed out and I think he was on something, he mentioned something about pills. . ."
"Well, we'll just go see where they've put him." She sets her coffee down and takes my hand and pulls me with her through the hospital.
She talks to the same unpleasant receptionist in the main lobby that I had seen earlier, and after a few moments of the woman's generally unhelpful behavior, Roger's mom gets angry.
"He's my son! I would like to know what's wrong with him and where he is! I'd hate to think that's a problem for you!"
The sudden temperament change reminds me of Roger's occasional outbursts.
The receptionist raises her eyebrows, but is otherwise apathetic to her behavior. She looks it up and tells her a room number and floor and soon I'm being pulled after her toward another elevator. She says nothing to me for a few moments, then looks over at me while we're standing in the elevator.
"You called the ambulance for him?" She asks me.
I nod slowly. "I didn't have a car or anything. . ."
She pulls me into a soft hug and kisses my forehead.
"Thank you." She tells me. "You're a good boy."
The elevator opens and she again takes my hand and pulls me after her. Not bothering to knock she pushes open the door of his room. There's another nurse in there and a doctor, blocking my view of the bed. When he finally turns around to see who's come in I can see Roger and I exhale deeply, because though he looks pale and tired, he's alive and no one in the room except for his mom looks worried.
She goes over to the side of the bed and reaches for his hand. When she takes it he opens his eyes and smiles weakly at her.
"Hey mom." He says, his voice quiet and hoarse.
She sighs with relief. "What did you do, Roger?" She asks him in a gentle voice.
He closes his eyes then opens them again and does his best to shrug.
"April. . ."
She glares. "I thought you told me you stopped seeing that girl."
"Mostly. . ."
She sighs again. "Whatever, but you know I don't like her." She kisses his forehead. "I'm just glad you're alive. I didn't know what happened." She looks up at the doctor. "I still don't."
The doctor sends a disapproving look down at Roger before responding.
"He's had his stomach pumped. Slight overdose of one of the 'club drugs'." He looks down at Roger again. "Shouldn't mix those with alcohol either."
His mom looks offended. "Roger doesn't drink."
The doctor gives her a long look and raises an eyebrow but says nothing. The other nurse comes over and tries to convince me to leave. I look desperately over at the bed and Roger's mom sees me.
"No, he stays."
"It's really only supposed to be family members." The nurse mutters and resumes checking the IV bag attached to Roger's arm.
His mom smiles at me. "Come here, hun. It's alright."
Roger raises his head and looks away from his mom for the first time.
"Mark's. . . here?" He asks softly.
Cautiously I walk toward the bed and stand opposite of his mom. He looks up at me.
"You're, here." He says.
I nod. I think about taking his hand but I'm not sure if I should, especially when I see everything it's hooked up to. But when he slowly reaches his hand up, his fingers shaking horribly and hope in his tired eyes, I entwine my fingers with his and kneel next to his bed. While the doctor is talking to the nurse and not paying attention I kiss his hand quickly and he smiles.
"My stomach hurts." He tells us, closing his eyes. His mom strokes his hair.
"Poor baby." She whispers with that identical, however sadder, smile.
Another nurse comes in.
"Hey, Linda, they need you downstairs." She calls.
Roger's mom kisses him again and lets go of his hand.
"I'll be back after my shift, ok?" She tells him.
He nods and glances over at me. "Can Mark stay?"
His mom looks at the doctor who looks as though he's about to say no, but then reluctantly nods.
"For a while," He says. "But cooperate with the nurse. If she comes back and tells you, you have to leave, come back when she says it's alright."
I nod, still holding Roger's hand. I feel him squeeze my hand weakly and I squeeze back and smile at him.
The doctor, nurse and Roger's mom leave and we're alone. He turns his head slightly to look at me.
"I'm sorry." He whispers.
"You already told me, it's alright. I'm sorry too." I pause for a moment and just look at him. Somehow, despite the fact that he's sick in the hospital, he manages to look perfect. To me at least.
"I missed you." He says softly, closing his eyes. "I thought you didn't like me anymore."
I rub his hand with my thumb, feeling horrible. "I didn't mean that. I was just, you know, mad."
He nods. "I'm sorry I'm such an asshole."
I kiss his hand. "I'm used to it. It's why I love you."
He opens his eyes, grinning. "Love you too."
Hesitantly I lean over him and gently kiss his lips. When I pull away he's still smiling. I squeeze his hand.
"You should sleep." I tell him. He shrugs but closes his eyes. I pull a chair over and sit beside his bed.
+++ (a few days later)
I lay next to Roger in his bed. Although my mom had made me go to school both Tuesday and Wednesday, when I told her Roger was getting out of the hospital she reluctantly agreed to call me in so I could spend the day with him. Sometimes I think I underestimate my mom.
He has his head on my shoulder, his arms around my waist. His eyes are closed but I know he's not sleeping. I kiss his forehead and he opens them and looks up at me.
"How're you feeling?" I ask him.
He moves away from me slightly and stretches.
"Better." He says and smiles, then his face turns somber and he shakes his head.
"I'm such an idiot."
I take his hand. "No, you're not."
"You have no idea how much shit I did, Mark. I got really fucked up."
I shrug. "I got really fucked up the first time we hung out, remember? So what?"
"Not anymore. I'm never doing any of that shit again."
I look over at the CD player next to his bed. A pack of cigarettes sits on top of it. I reach over and pick them up. He doesn't say anything. I shake the pack at him.
"Those too." He agrees. I pocket them to throw away later.
He moves back toward me and I put my arm around him. He rests his head against my shoulder. I smile to myself, I could stay here all day.
His mom knocks on the door, opening it slowly. She smiles when she sees us. Roger opens his eye, sits up and yawns.
"Hey mom."
She's carrying a bowl that she sets on the floor next to the bed when she kneels beside it. She kisses Roger on the cheek.
"How are you?"
He grins at her. "Better." He looks at the floor. "What'd you bring me?"
"Chicken soup." She says.
"Aw, you haven't made me soup since I was, like, five." He laughs.
"You never get sick." She tells him. She lifts the spoon out of the bowl and holds it up to him.
"One for me and I'll leave you alone again."
He rolls his eyes good naturedly, but accepts the spoon in his mouth.
"Homemade? You spoil me, mom." He says, grinning.
She winks at him and messes his hair, handing me the bowl before kissing him again and walking out. I hold the bowl over to him but he gives me a pitiful, pouting look.
"Marky, I'm sick. . ."
"By your own doing, and you are perfectly capable of feeding yourself."
"But Marky. . ."
I roll my eyes. "Oh fine. Don't call me Marky."
He grins at me and winks. I hold up a spoonful for him. He doesn't move toward it.
"Oh now you're just plain lazy."
He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue.
"Don't be weird, that's just gross." I say, making a face.
"But Marky," He says, completely disregarding my former request. "You never complain about my tongue when it's anywhere else."
I feel myself blushing and shake my head at him. He laughs loudly and I reach over him and set the bowl down.
"Fine, feed yourself."
He wraps his arms around me and pulls my body against his. He presses his lips to mine.
When he pulls away I glare at him.
"I thought you were 'sick'."
He laughs softly and kisses me again.
+++
Notes Continued: Oh sniff. Thanks for reading/reviewing!
Notes: Filler chapter, not much really happens. Roger and Marky being mushy at the hospital, Roger and Marky being mushy at home. Fun for the whole family. :D enjoy!
Chapter 36 -To Me At Least-
+Mark's POV+
Though the paramedics had reluctantly let me ride in the ambulance with him, I'm separated from Roger as soon as we get to the hospital. I walk around the waiting room, kicking the chairs, frustrated. The receptionist glares at me. I can't help the fact that after almost two hours I'm a little anxious to find out what happened to Roger. My throat feels really dry and sore.
I dig my hand into my pocket and come up with two dollars. I look over at the receptionist.
"Where's the cafeteria?" I ask her.
She rolls her eyes and points at a floor map of the hospital. I sigh and walk over to it, figure out it's in the basement, and head for the elevator.
I buy myself a small Styrofoam cup of coffee. I hate the taste of it. How does Roger, or anyone for that matter, drink this? I take one more drink, cringe and throw the half full cup away.
"Mark?"
I turn around and see Roger's mom. I had forgotten she was a nurse. She's holding a cup of coffee identical to the one I just tossed.
"What're you doing here, hun?" She asks, smiling.
"Roger's here." No point in hiding it from her, he's her son.
Her free hand goes to her chest.
"What?"
"Some of his friends dropped him off in front of your house and drove off. He passed out and I think he was on something, he mentioned something about pills. . ."
"Well, we'll just go see where they've put him." She sets her coffee down and takes my hand and pulls me with her through the hospital.
She talks to the same unpleasant receptionist in the main lobby that I had seen earlier, and after a few moments of the woman's generally unhelpful behavior, Roger's mom gets angry.
"He's my son! I would like to know what's wrong with him and where he is! I'd hate to think that's a problem for you!"
The sudden temperament change reminds me of Roger's occasional outbursts.
The receptionist raises her eyebrows, but is otherwise apathetic to her behavior. She looks it up and tells her a room number and floor and soon I'm being pulled after her toward another elevator. She says nothing to me for a few moments, then looks over at me while we're standing in the elevator.
"You called the ambulance for him?" She asks me.
I nod slowly. "I didn't have a car or anything. . ."
She pulls me into a soft hug and kisses my forehead.
"Thank you." She tells me. "You're a good boy."
The elevator opens and she again takes my hand and pulls me after her. Not bothering to knock she pushes open the door of his room. There's another nurse in there and a doctor, blocking my view of the bed. When he finally turns around to see who's come in I can see Roger and I exhale deeply, because though he looks pale and tired, he's alive and no one in the room except for his mom looks worried.
She goes over to the side of the bed and reaches for his hand. When she takes it he opens his eyes and smiles weakly at her.
"Hey mom." He says, his voice quiet and hoarse.
She sighs with relief. "What did you do, Roger?" She asks him in a gentle voice.
He closes his eyes then opens them again and does his best to shrug.
"April. . ."
She glares. "I thought you told me you stopped seeing that girl."
"Mostly. . ."
She sighs again. "Whatever, but you know I don't like her." She kisses his forehead. "I'm just glad you're alive. I didn't know what happened." She looks up at the doctor. "I still don't."
The doctor sends a disapproving look down at Roger before responding.
"He's had his stomach pumped. Slight overdose of one of the 'club drugs'." He looks down at Roger again. "Shouldn't mix those with alcohol either."
His mom looks offended. "Roger doesn't drink."
The doctor gives her a long look and raises an eyebrow but says nothing. The other nurse comes over and tries to convince me to leave. I look desperately over at the bed and Roger's mom sees me.
"No, he stays."
"It's really only supposed to be family members." The nurse mutters and resumes checking the IV bag attached to Roger's arm.
His mom smiles at me. "Come here, hun. It's alright."
Roger raises his head and looks away from his mom for the first time.
"Mark's. . . here?" He asks softly.
Cautiously I walk toward the bed and stand opposite of his mom. He looks up at me.
"You're, here." He says.
I nod. I think about taking his hand but I'm not sure if I should, especially when I see everything it's hooked up to. But when he slowly reaches his hand up, his fingers shaking horribly and hope in his tired eyes, I entwine my fingers with his and kneel next to his bed. While the doctor is talking to the nurse and not paying attention I kiss his hand quickly and he smiles.
"My stomach hurts." He tells us, closing his eyes. His mom strokes his hair.
"Poor baby." She whispers with that identical, however sadder, smile.
Another nurse comes in.
"Hey, Linda, they need you downstairs." She calls.
Roger's mom kisses him again and lets go of his hand.
"I'll be back after my shift, ok?" She tells him.
He nods and glances over at me. "Can Mark stay?"
His mom looks at the doctor who looks as though he's about to say no, but then reluctantly nods.
"For a while," He says. "But cooperate with the nurse. If she comes back and tells you, you have to leave, come back when she says it's alright."
I nod, still holding Roger's hand. I feel him squeeze my hand weakly and I squeeze back and smile at him.
The doctor, nurse and Roger's mom leave and we're alone. He turns his head slightly to look at me.
"I'm sorry." He whispers.
"You already told me, it's alright. I'm sorry too." I pause for a moment and just look at him. Somehow, despite the fact that he's sick in the hospital, he manages to look perfect. To me at least.
"I missed you." He says softly, closing his eyes. "I thought you didn't like me anymore."
I rub his hand with my thumb, feeling horrible. "I didn't mean that. I was just, you know, mad."
He nods. "I'm sorry I'm such an asshole."
I kiss his hand. "I'm used to it. It's why I love you."
He opens his eyes, grinning. "Love you too."
Hesitantly I lean over him and gently kiss his lips. When I pull away he's still smiling. I squeeze his hand.
"You should sleep." I tell him. He shrugs but closes his eyes. I pull a chair over and sit beside his bed.
+++ (a few days later)
I lay next to Roger in his bed. Although my mom had made me go to school both Tuesday and Wednesday, when I told her Roger was getting out of the hospital she reluctantly agreed to call me in so I could spend the day with him. Sometimes I think I underestimate my mom.
He has his head on my shoulder, his arms around my waist. His eyes are closed but I know he's not sleeping. I kiss his forehead and he opens them and looks up at me.
"How're you feeling?" I ask him.
He moves away from me slightly and stretches.
"Better." He says and smiles, then his face turns somber and he shakes his head.
"I'm such an idiot."
I take his hand. "No, you're not."
"You have no idea how much shit I did, Mark. I got really fucked up."
I shrug. "I got really fucked up the first time we hung out, remember? So what?"
"Not anymore. I'm never doing any of that shit again."
I look over at the CD player next to his bed. A pack of cigarettes sits on top of it. I reach over and pick them up. He doesn't say anything. I shake the pack at him.
"Those too." He agrees. I pocket them to throw away later.
He moves back toward me and I put my arm around him. He rests his head against my shoulder. I smile to myself, I could stay here all day.
His mom knocks on the door, opening it slowly. She smiles when she sees us. Roger opens his eye, sits up and yawns.
"Hey mom."
She's carrying a bowl that she sets on the floor next to the bed when she kneels beside it. She kisses Roger on the cheek.
"How are you?"
He grins at her. "Better." He looks at the floor. "What'd you bring me?"
"Chicken soup." She says.
"Aw, you haven't made me soup since I was, like, five." He laughs.
"You never get sick." She tells him. She lifts the spoon out of the bowl and holds it up to him.
"One for me and I'll leave you alone again."
He rolls his eyes good naturedly, but accepts the spoon in his mouth.
"Homemade? You spoil me, mom." He says, grinning.
She winks at him and messes his hair, handing me the bowl before kissing him again and walking out. I hold the bowl over to him but he gives me a pitiful, pouting look.
"Marky, I'm sick. . ."
"By your own doing, and you are perfectly capable of feeding yourself."
"But Marky. . ."
I roll my eyes. "Oh fine. Don't call me Marky."
He grins at me and winks. I hold up a spoonful for him. He doesn't move toward it.
"Oh now you're just plain lazy."
He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue.
"Don't be weird, that's just gross." I say, making a face.
"But Marky," He says, completely disregarding my former request. "You never complain about my tongue when it's anywhere else."
I feel myself blushing and shake my head at him. He laughs loudly and I reach over him and set the bowl down.
"Fine, feed yourself."
He wraps his arms around me and pulls my body against his. He presses his lips to mine.
When he pulls away I glare at him.
"I thought you were 'sick'."
He laughs softly and kisses me again.
+++
Notes Continued: Oh sniff. Thanks for reading/reviewing!