Disclaimers and summary on first chapter
Notes: Thanks for your patience for the Roger/Mimi chapters. I set out to write a Roger/Mark story, I never really intended it to go on this long and I can't just skip over RENT. Mostly because it doesn't make sense. Roger can't just be in love with Mark and start fucking Mimi, it doesn't work that way. Not in my little RENT world anyway. Only a couple more, until then there's plenty of interaction in the little 'uns section to keep you busy. :P
Lots of dialogue in this chapter, so it's sadly not as long as it looks. Sorry.
Oh and there is little bit of Marky being OOC, very not RENT. But remember he's not his little boho self quite yet. Roger hasn't fully corrupted him yet. ;)
Chapter 38 -Your Song-
+Mark's POV+
When our schedules change second semester I'm in a few classes with Roger for the first time and I'm shocked to find he does next to nothing in any of them. Our math teacher knows not to bother asking him for his homework, our physics teacher sighed loudly before she called his name for role the first day, and all of the gym teachers despise him. For someone in such great shape, I would think he'd enjoy gym or at least attempt to participate. Most days he refuses to dress, if he does he'll wander around the gyms and the weight room, talking to random people or flirting with me if he thinks no one's looking and sometimes if they are. He knows it makes me angry when he does, so he'll make it more often and obvious if he's in the mood to irritate me.
I found out from Maureen no less, who's a complete groupie for his band and who's also gotten really 'close' with the drummer, that Roger's last school expelled him and that's why he came here. I had never really noticed it before, but this school isn't in his district, he actually doesn't live in Scarsdale.
So he's a slacker. It makes me angry because he's smarter than that. Most of his classes are junior level, at the highest. He's the only senior in some of them. Maureen told me he's in her American History class and that the teacher never hesitates to make fun of him for it. He doesn't help the situation by any means, but if Maureen feels bad for him, like she says she often does, it must be bad. I hate the teacher, and I don't even know who it is.
I keep trying to talk to him about his situation. I could help him, or find him a tutor for the classes I'm not taking, but he always manages to change the subject somehow.
The bell rings and my study hall is over. I pick up my backpack, shove my hands in my pockets and start walking. If Roger doesn't find me first, I might just walk home.
"Mark!"
Fuck.
Reluctantly I stop and wait for him to catch up. I'm really not in the mood for his presence today, not after the shit he pulled in gym class. While playing a truly disastrous game of volleyball, Roger came up behind me and wrapped his arm around my waist and kissed me on the neck. I don't really think anyone saw it for what it actually was, or at least no one said anything, but I was, am, really angry at him for it. When he's at my side I start walking again.
"Hey, my car's this way. You want a ride, don't you?" He asks me.
I shrug.
He sighs. "Look I'm sorry for what I did during gym, ok? I didn't know it would piss you off like that."
"How could you not know? You know I don't like that sort of thing in public! This is high school, Roger! You can't do shit like that here!"
He gives me a very disapproving look. "Why not?"
I ignore his question and walk faster. He groans.
"I hate it when you do this! When you're mad at me, talk to me! Don't just walk away!"
I turn around and he runs into me. He backs up a step or two.
"Why are you failing all of your classes? Why don't you bother to try? Is it true you got expelled from your last school?"
He gives me a hurt look. "I'm not failing all of them."
When I only stare he rolls his eyes. "I'm passing study hall!"
I shake my head. "That's not even funny. That's not a class. I mean, wow! I'm passing lunch!"
"Alright, alright. What do you want from me?"
"I want you to stop pretending school doesn't matter."
He laughs. "But it doesn't. I'm gonna be a rock singer, I don't need math."
"What if you're not, Rog? You need something to. . ."
"What?"
"I said, what if you're. . ."
He gives me a cold look. "I will."
"Of course you will," I tell him in a patronizing voice. "But if you don't. . ."
"No, you don't understand, Mark." He narrows his eyes. "I will. I don't need you to tell me I'm not good enough." He starts to walk away but turns around once more. "What do you know, anyway? Huh? Never mind. It doesn't matter." He shakes his head and I watch him until I can't see him anymore in the parking lot.
It's good that he has that much confidence, but he has to be realistic. It's hard to make it.
+++ (later that night)
The phone rings. I ignore it. My mom knocks on my door.
"I'm busy!" I yell through it.
She comes in anyway and holds out the phone to me. Reluctantly I set down my camera and take it.
"It's Roger." She tells me.
Damn him for calling. If my father had been home and answered the phone I would have never heard the end of it.
When my mom leaves I hold the phone up to my ear.
"What?" I ask, harshly. Significantly more callous than I meant it to be.
I can almost hear his shock at my tone on the other end. He swallows nervously.
"Look, uh, Mark I'm sorry. Really. I don't know why I got so mad. Really. Uh. . ." He stops, not knowing what else to say.
Unwillingly I sigh. "It's alright. It's really not my. . ."
"No, you're right, Mark. I shouldn't blow off school like I do, I just, well, I don't think I know how to try." He says in a small voice.
"I can help you." I tell him.
"Really?"
"Yeah, at least in math and science, I know those pretty well. Maybe history too. And what I don't know Maureen does, she's always looking up obscure shit to relate to her own crazy ideas of how society should work." I say.
He laughs softly. "Will you come over?" He asks me.
"Now?"
"Yeah. I mean, I can pick you up, but will you?"
"Yeah. My dad's not home so. . . Jesus!"
"What?" He asks, alarmed.
"I never told you! I completely forgot, you were in the hospital and all that. I told my mom, my mom knows that we're. . ."
"Seriously? You did?" I don't know if he believes me or not.
"Yeah, my dad thinks I'm dating Maureen, but I told my mom the truth."
"And. . ."
"She doesn't really care. She said it wasn't what she would have wanted for me, but that it was ok."
"One of those, 'I just want you to be happy' deals?"
"Yeah."
"Well, I mean, that's great, Mark. I didn't really think you'd. . . cool."
I smile. "When are you coming?"
"Now?"
"Sure."
We hang up a minute later and I rush downstairs to tell my mom I'm leaving. She just nods pensively, she's watching a soap opera she taped during the day. She looks up just long enough to take the phone from me. I roll my eyes and rush back upstairs to throw some extra things in my backpack. While I'm packing someone knocks on my door.
"Who were you talking to, Marky?"
I groan. "Go away, Cindy."
She leans against my now closed door and watches me.
"Going somewhere?"
"Yeah."
"Does Daddy know?"
"I hate you."
She grins. "I'm not gonna tell him. On purpose. But your helping to prevent mistakes could be highly profitable."
"I don't have any money." I grin. "But I promise I won't tell mom or dad about that college senior and his three friends you had over last weekend."
"Like they'd believe you." She scoffs, but I can tell she's nervous. It's true there were far more girls than guys at the party Cindy wasn't supposed to have in our house last weekend when our parents went to stay with some friends over the weekend, but Cindy isn't allowed to have 'boys' over at all.
"Fine. Have fun with your boyfriend." She says coldly.
I smile. "I will."
I hear the doorbell ring and give her an obnoxious pat on the shoulder before I hurry down the stairs to beat my mom to the door.
+++
In Roger's room we sit on his bed next to each other. He's been trying to explain the idea of 'create, not sell' for the past hour.
"It's not about how other people perceive what you've done, it's that you did it." He says, for the third time.
"But then why bother?"
He groans good-naturedly. "Some people just have a drive to create." He shrugs.
I lay my head against his shoulder and he puts his arm around me. Suddenly he stands up and I almost fall over.
"Hey. . ."
"I almost forgot! I totally wrote you a song!" He stops and shrugs. "Well, Elton John and Bernie Taupin did, I just figured out the chords by listening to it for an entire day."
I stare at him as he grabs his acoustic and strums it happily. He tunes it quickly. I raise my eyebrows at him when he looks up.
"Ok? Really, it's cool. You'll like it."
I shrug and watch him as he positions his hands on the guitar and starts out the song.
'It's a little bit funny this feeling inside
I'm not one of those who can easily hide
I don't have much money but boy if I did
I'd buy a big house where we both could live
If I was a sculptor, but then again, no
Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show
I know it's not much but it's the best I can do
My gift is my song and this one's for you'
He closes his eyes, I can tell he's blushing and his voice quakes slightly. Any words I had are taken from me as I watch him speechless.
'And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple but now that it's done
I hope you don't mind
I hope you don't mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world
I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss
Well a few of the verses well they've got me quite cross
But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song
It's for people like you that keep it turned on
So excuse me forgetting but these things I do
You see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue
Anyway the thing is what I really mean
Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen'
He looks up at me, his eyes locking onto mine. This coming from punk rocker Roger who sings exclusively with a loud heavy metal band every few weekends? It's the sound he had the first time I saw him play his guitar, his real voice, his real soul. He grins shyly in a break in the lyrics then looks down at his fingers a moment later to finish it.
'And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple but now that it's done
I hope you don't mind
I hope you don't mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world'
He takes his time looking up at me, I know he's nervous now about what I'm going to think. When his eyes connect with mine I smile widely at him and he relaxes.
"You like it?"
"I love you."
He grins. "I know."
I slide off of his bed and sit next to him on the floor. He turns his head and kisses me quickly on the cheek. I nudge him sharply in the side and when he looks back over I gently pull his face to mine and kiss him deeply. He sets his guitar down and turns so he can wrap his arms around me. I lean against him, absorbed in him, the love song he stole from Elton John still on my mind.
+++
Far later that night a sleeping Roger has wrapped himself around my body and I lay awake, my fingers in his hair.
'How wonderful life is while you're in the world. . .'
+++
Notes Continued: Dammit if this isn't the best song ever written. Of course it's copyright to Elton John and Bernie Taupin, not me or Roger sadly. Too bad, cause 'Your Eyes' sort of sucks. I bet he'd have written a better song if he'd written one about Mark's eyes instead. Yeah, you heard me. Mark's Eyes!! Mmmm. . . tangent. Anyway, sorry for this chapter, but this song is God and I've been dying to use it in fanfiction since I started writing it. And the idea of Roger singing it to Mark makes me happy.
Ok, 'Your Eyes' doesn't suck, but it's easily the worst song in the musical. Depending on the Roger it's good though. Original is the best, let Adam Pascal sing it eternally. Then again, he could sing the hokey pokey and I'd swoon so I'll just be quiet before my notes start getting longer than my chapters. Thanks for reading/reviewing, you guys rule. :P
Notes: Thanks for your patience for the Roger/Mimi chapters. I set out to write a Roger/Mark story, I never really intended it to go on this long and I can't just skip over RENT. Mostly because it doesn't make sense. Roger can't just be in love with Mark and start fucking Mimi, it doesn't work that way. Not in my little RENT world anyway. Only a couple more, until then there's plenty of interaction in the little 'uns section to keep you busy. :P
Lots of dialogue in this chapter, so it's sadly not as long as it looks. Sorry.
Oh and there is little bit of Marky being OOC, very not RENT. But remember he's not his little boho self quite yet. Roger hasn't fully corrupted him yet. ;)
Chapter 38 -Your Song-
+Mark's POV+
When our schedules change second semester I'm in a few classes with Roger for the first time and I'm shocked to find he does next to nothing in any of them. Our math teacher knows not to bother asking him for his homework, our physics teacher sighed loudly before she called his name for role the first day, and all of the gym teachers despise him. For someone in such great shape, I would think he'd enjoy gym or at least attempt to participate. Most days he refuses to dress, if he does he'll wander around the gyms and the weight room, talking to random people or flirting with me if he thinks no one's looking and sometimes if they are. He knows it makes me angry when he does, so he'll make it more often and obvious if he's in the mood to irritate me.
I found out from Maureen no less, who's a complete groupie for his band and who's also gotten really 'close' with the drummer, that Roger's last school expelled him and that's why he came here. I had never really noticed it before, but this school isn't in his district, he actually doesn't live in Scarsdale.
So he's a slacker. It makes me angry because he's smarter than that. Most of his classes are junior level, at the highest. He's the only senior in some of them. Maureen told me he's in her American History class and that the teacher never hesitates to make fun of him for it. He doesn't help the situation by any means, but if Maureen feels bad for him, like she says she often does, it must be bad. I hate the teacher, and I don't even know who it is.
I keep trying to talk to him about his situation. I could help him, or find him a tutor for the classes I'm not taking, but he always manages to change the subject somehow.
The bell rings and my study hall is over. I pick up my backpack, shove my hands in my pockets and start walking. If Roger doesn't find me first, I might just walk home.
"Mark!"
Fuck.
Reluctantly I stop and wait for him to catch up. I'm really not in the mood for his presence today, not after the shit he pulled in gym class. While playing a truly disastrous game of volleyball, Roger came up behind me and wrapped his arm around my waist and kissed me on the neck. I don't really think anyone saw it for what it actually was, or at least no one said anything, but I was, am, really angry at him for it. When he's at my side I start walking again.
"Hey, my car's this way. You want a ride, don't you?" He asks me.
I shrug.
He sighs. "Look I'm sorry for what I did during gym, ok? I didn't know it would piss you off like that."
"How could you not know? You know I don't like that sort of thing in public! This is high school, Roger! You can't do shit like that here!"
He gives me a very disapproving look. "Why not?"
I ignore his question and walk faster. He groans.
"I hate it when you do this! When you're mad at me, talk to me! Don't just walk away!"
I turn around and he runs into me. He backs up a step or two.
"Why are you failing all of your classes? Why don't you bother to try? Is it true you got expelled from your last school?"
He gives me a hurt look. "I'm not failing all of them."
When I only stare he rolls his eyes. "I'm passing study hall!"
I shake my head. "That's not even funny. That's not a class. I mean, wow! I'm passing lunch!"
"Alright, alright. What do you want from me?"
"I want you to stop pretending school doesn't matter."
He laughs. "But it doesn't. I'm gonna be a rock singer, I don't need math."
"What if you're not, Rog? You need something to. . ."
"What?"
"I said, what if you're. . ."
He gives me a cold look. "I will."
"Of course you will," I tell him in a patronizing voice. "But if you don't. . ."
"No, you don't understand, Mark." He narrows his eyes. "I will. I don't need you to tell me I'm not good enough." He starts to walk away but turns around once more. "What do you know, anyway? Huh? Never mind. It doesn't matter." He shakes his head and I watch him until I can't see him anymore in the parking lot.
It's good that he has that much confidence, but he has to be realistic. It's hard to make it.
+++ (later that night)
The phone rings. I ignore it. My mom knocks on my door.
"I'm busy!" I yell through it.
She comes in anyway and holds out the phone to me. Reluctantly I set down my camera and take it.
"It's Roger." She tells me.
Damn him for calling. If my father had been home and answered the phone I would have never heard the end of it.
When my mom leaves I hold the phone up to my ear.
"What?" I ask, harshly. Significantly more callous than I meant it to be.
I can almost hear his shock at my tone on the other end. He swallows nervously.
"Look, uh, Mark I'm sorry. Really. I don't know why I got so mad. Really. Uh. . ." He stops, not knowing what else to say.
Unwillingly I sigh. "It's alright. It's really not my. . ."
"No, you're right, Mark. I shouldn't blow off school like I do, I just, well, I don't think I know how to try." He says in a small voice.
"I can help you." I tell him.
"Really?"
"Yeah, at least in math and science, I know those pretty well. Maybe history too. And what I don't know Maureen does, she's always looking up obscure shit to relate to her own crazy ideas of how society should work." I say.
He laughs softly. "Will you come over?" He asks me.
"Now?"
"Yeah. I mean, I can pick you up, but will you?"
"Yeah. My dad's not home so. . . Jesus!"
"What?" He asks, alarmed.
"I never told you! I completely forgot, you were in the hospital and all that. I told my mom, my mom knows that we're. . ."
"Seriously? You did?" I don't know if he believes me or not.
"Yeah, my dad thinks I'm dating Maureen, but I told my mom the truth."
"And. . ."
"She doesn't really care. She said it wasn't what she would have wanted for me, but that it was ok."
"One of those, 'I just want you to be happy' deals?"
"Yeah."
"Well, I mean, that's great, Mark. I didn't really think you'd. . . cool."
I smile. "When are you coming?"
"Now?"
"Sure."
We hang up a minute later and I rush downstairs to tell my mom I'm leaving. She just nods pensively, she's watching a soap opera she taped during the day. She looks up just long enough to take the phone from me. I roll my eyes and rush back upstairs to throw some extra things in my backpack. While I'm packing someone knocks on my door.
"Who were you talking to, Marky?"
I groan. "Go away, Cindy."
She leans against my now closed door and watches me.
"Going somewhere?"
"Yeah."
"Does Daddy know?"
"I hate you."
She grins. "I'm not gonna tell him. On purpose. But your helping to prevent mistakes could be highly profitable."
"I don't have any money." I grin. "But I promise I won't tell mom or dad about that college senior and his three friends you had over last weekend."
"Like they'd believe you." She scoffs, but I can tell she's nervous. It's true there were far more girls than guys at the party Cindy wasn't supposed to have in our house last weekend when our parents went to stay with some friends over the weekend, but Cindy isn't allowed to have 'boys' over at all.
"Fine. Have fun with your boyfriend." She says coldly.
I smile. "I will."
I hear the doorbell ring and give her an obnoxious pat on the shoulder before I hurry down the stairs to beat my mom to the door.
+++
In Roger's room we sit on his bed next to each other. He's been trying to explain the idea of 'create, not sell' for the past hour.
"It's not about how other people perceive what you've done, it's that you did it." He says, for the third time.
"But then why bother?"
He groans good-naturedly. "Some people just have a drive to create." He shrugs.
I lay my head against his shoulder and he puts his arm around me. Suddenly he stands up and I almost fall over.
"Hey. . ."
"I almost forgot! I totally wrote you a song!" He stops and shrugs. "Well, Elton John and Bernie Taupin did, I just figured out the chords by listening to it for an entire day."
I stare at him as he grabs his acoustic and strums it happily. He tunes it quickly. I raise my eyebrows at him when he looks up.
"Ok? Really, it's cool. You'll like it."
I shrug and watch him as he positions his hands on the guitar and starts out the song.
'It's a little bit funny this feeling inside
I'm not one of those who can easily hide
I don't have much money but boy if I did
I'd buy a big house where we both could live
If I was a sculptor, but then again, no
Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show
I know it's not much but it's the best I can do
My gift is my song and this one's for you'
He closes his eyes, I can tell he's blushing and his voice quakes slightly. Any words I had are taken from me as I watch him speechless.
'And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple but now that it's done
I hope you don't mind
I hope you don't mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world
I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss
Well a few of the verses well they've got me quite cross
But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song
It's for people like you that keep it turned on
So excuse me forgetting but these things I do
You see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue
Anyway the thing is what I really mean
Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen'
He looks up at me, his eyes locking onto mine. This coming from punk rocker Roger who sings exclusively with a loud heavy metal band every few weekends? It's the sound he had the first time I saw him play his guitar, his real voice, his real soul. He grins shyly in a break in the lyrics then looks down at his fingers a moment later to finish it.
'And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple but now that it's done
I hope you don't mind
I hope you don't mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world'
He takes his time looking up at me, I know he's nervous now about what I'm going to think. When his eyes connect with mine I smile widely at him and he relaxes.
"You like it?"
"I love you."
He grins. "I know."
I slide off of his bed and sit next to him on the floor. He turns his head and kisses me quickly on the cheek. I nudge him sharply in the side and when he looks back over I gently pull his face to mine and kiss him deeply. He sets his guitar down and turns so he can wrap his arms around me. I lean against him, absorbed in him, the love song he stole from Elton John still on my mind.
+++
Far later that night a sleeping Roger has wrapped himself around my body and I lay awake, my fingers in his hair.
'How wonderful life is while you're in the world. . .'
+++
Notes Continued: Dammit if this isn't the best song ever written. Of course it's copyright to Elton John and Bernie Taupin, not me or Roger sadly. Too bad, cause 'Your Eyes' sort of sucks. I bet he'd have written a better song if he'd written one about Mark's eyes instead. Yeah, you heard me. Mark's Eyes!! Mmmm. . . tangent. Anyway, sorry for this chapter, but this song is God and I've been dying to use it in fanfiction since I started writing it. And the idea of Roger singing it to Mark makes me happy.
Ok, 'Your Eyes' doesn't suck, but it's easily the worst song in the musical. Depending on the Roger it's good though. Original is the best, let Adam Pascal sing it eternally. Then again, he could sing the hokey pokey and I'd swoon so I'll just be quiet before my notes start getting longer than my chapters. Thanks for reading/reviewing, you guys rule. :P