Disclaimers and summary on first chapter
Notes: Sorry I couldn't post yesterday, I had to read some lame ass book for school. Here's two chappies to make up for it, still love me, right? ;)
Chapter 51 -The Beginning Of The End-
+Roger's POV+
Mark wraps his arms around me from behind and kisses my neck.
"Hey, are you alright? You look horrible today." He tells me.
I roll my eyes. "Thanks."
He turns me to face him, looking concerned. "Really, how are you feeling?"
I push him away. "I'm fine, Mark. Stop it."
He shakes his head and starts to walk out of the room. I grab his arm.
"Wait, I'm sorry. Please?"
He sighs heavily but lets me stop him. "Don't do this Roger. Don't push me away."
"I'm not. I won't." I tell him. I take his hands and pull him to me. "I won't do that to you anymore."
He kisses me quickly and gives me the same worried look one last time before he lets me pull him out the door and downstairs.
"Holy fuck, real food!" Mark exclaims grabbing hard onto my arm when he sees a table full of early morning's finest, eggs, pancakes and a plate of bacon and sausage. I laugh at his reaction, but know I'm staring with the same hunger.
"Oh good, you're up. I was just going to knock on your door." My mother says, smiling. "You two hungry?"
I hug her quickly and kiss her on the cheek and Mark and I sit down to eat. She laughs gently watching us.
"Do you boys eat ok out there?"
"Not like this." I tell her.
"You're both too skinny." She announces. "I don't know what you're eating, but you're not eating enough."
I roll my eyes at her. "We're fine, mom. We just don't know how to cook."
Mark looks offended. "I can use a toaster."
"And I can use a fork. You can't cook Mark, get over it."
He pouts at me. "You've never complained about my cooking before."
"That's cause you don't cook. Quaker Oats does."
My mom laughs at us and ruffles Mark's hair affectionately. "Poor dear."
I lean over to kiss him but he pushes me away gently.
"Brush your teeth first."
"You've already kissed me today!"
"I wasn't fully awake yet. My judgment was impaired."
I grin at my mom who smiles sadly watching us. She looks older, significantly more somber. She still doesn't have many lines on her face, but even against her blonde hair I can see gray starting to form throughout it. Her eyes are tired, the lines at their corners the most prominent ones on her face, and the little bags developing beneath them make her seem older than she is. But she's still beautiful when she smiles.
When we finish eating and start to go back upstairs I grab Mark and pull him against me in a tight embrace.
"Aha! Morning breath!" I proclaim to him.
Before he can protest I press my lips to his. He kisses me back, but soon enough pushes me away.
"You're disgusting."
I grin at him and hurry up the rest of the stairs.
"I don't know why I put up with you." He says, shoving me at the top of the stairs. When he starts to walk away I grab his waist and pull him back to me. I kiss his neck, and that lovely corner of skin where neck meets shoulder. He sighs.
"I love you." I tell him, my lips on his ear. I nip his lobe gently. "You're perfect and I love you."
He lets out a low moan and lays his hands over mine. I start to tell him something else but pull away instead, coughing violently. It's a horrible, gagging sort of feeling that pulls me to the ground where I sit trying to control my breathing and body movement throughout. Mark kneels behind me and I feel his hands on my shoulders. He rubs my back gently, telling me that I'm all right. Finally the fit ceases and Mark pulls me against him and I fall back, exhausted and sore.
"Are you alright?" He asks me softly.
I nod wearily. I hear my mom coming up the stairs looking mortified.
"Baby? What's wrong? Is he ok?" She asks, kneeling at my side.
Mark kisses my head gently. "I think he's ok."
"Honey, what's on your lip? Is that blood?" She reaches up to wipe at it but I push her hand away and do it myself. Sure enough, my lower lip is tinged with a thin layer of blood and I wipe at the trickle that begins on the side of my mouth. I can feel Mark's grip tightening.
"You said you were fine, Roger." My mom says quietly, looking hurt. She strokes my hair. "Are you really?"
Mark says nothing.
I sigh. "Maybe not." I admit, closing my eyes.
+++
Before I open my eyes I know I'm in a hospital bed. I groan but it's stifled by the oxygen mask on my face. I'm alone in this room, and I must admit I'm rather scared. I have no idea what has happened or why I'm here. I look down at the tubes in my arms and shiver. More tracks to add to the collection. I hate this. I hate hospitals. I hate not knowing what they're doing to me and I hate not having Mark here. When the door opens a while later I see my mother. She smiles pathetically, and I know it's forced, she looks as though she's about to cry. I wonder what they've told her.
"Hey." I say, forgetting the mask.
She comes over next to the bed and takes it off for me. She leans over and kisses my forehead.
"How are you?"
"I feel like shit." I tell her weakly. "Where's Mark?"
She bites her lip. "They won't let him in yet, baby."
"Why the hell not?"
"Don't get upset, you need to rest. We'll keep trying." In an effort to boost my morale perhaps, she changes the subject. "The doctor is going to come see you soon."
"Great. Tell him I want to see Mark."
"Roger. . ."
"Or I'll just start pulling tubes out and then they'll have a lawsuit and you and Mark can be rich."
"Behave." She tells me sternly, but she still gives me a sad, but wry smile. "I'll come back later, I'm only supposed to stay for a few minutes or they might not let me come back in. Don't do anything stupid, ok?"
She kisses me again, places the oxygen mask back over my face and reluctantly leaves. A nurse comes in and changes a bag of fluid going into my arm. I watch her do it, wondering what the hell it is, and when she leaves I close my eyes.
+++
I wake up when I hear voices in the room. Slowly I open my eyes to see my mom talking with a doctor in low voices. Whoever's holding my hand tightens his grip. I look to my right and of course it's Mark, sitting beside the bed looking pained and relieved at the same time.
"You scared me." He says softly, smiling at me. He touches my face gently. "Don't do that again."
I gesture best as I can to the mask and he takes it off for me.
"What happened?" I ask him.
"You passed out, wouldn't wake up. Scared the hell out of us."
"Good, you're awake." The doctor says, coming over to the bed. My mother looks heartbroken and I feel my stomach clench tightly.
"What is it?" Not AIDS, not yet. It's too soon. By all means of logic I get a few more years. I look at Mark, oh God, not yet.
"It's not what I'm sure you're thinking, yet." The doctor says. "But your T-Cells are at a dangerous low. I'm going to increase your dosage of AZT." He shrugs. "Be sure to take it, there's really nothing else to do." He talks to my mother for a few more minutes then leaves. Mark strokes my hair.
"And you tried to tell me taking those was pointless." He tries to joke. His face falls quickly though. Even though it's not what I was dreading, low T-Cells are never good. Mark's worried, I can tell. More than worried, he's scared like me. This is really the first time he's seen me sick because of HIV. And I'm scared because crap like this, this is where it starts. A couple close calls, then full blown AIDS. And all it is after that is maybe a year's worth of hospital visits, doctors, denial, hope, acceptance. . . but always fear. Always a horrible sinking dread that the day will come when you look around at the hospital and think 'I want to go home' and then that's it. That's the acceptance. But even with that, I can't believe there's no fear. You're dying. I'm dying. This is it. I'm dying. I have to understand that, believe it, and prepare him for it because Mark looks like he's about to cry and I don't want him to break down every time I need to go to a hospital once he realizes what this is all about. The beginning of the end.
I look down at his hand in mine and smile at him.
"It'll be ok, Marky." I tell him. "You too, mom. Stop it. I'm fine. I'll be fine."
How much longer am I going to keep fooling them and myself with that stupid lie?
+++
Notes Continued: See, not dead. I love him too much. He'll be out of the hospital next chappie and we'll have some fun then. ;)
Notes: Sorry I couldn't post yesterday, I had to read some lame ass book for school. Here's two chappies to make up for it, still love me, right? ;)
Chapter 51 -The Beginning Of The End-
+Roger's POV+
Mark wraps his arms around me from behind and kisses my neck.
"Hey, are you alright? You look horrible today." He tells me.
I roll my eyes. "Thanks."
He turns me to face him, looking concerned. "Really, how are you feeling?"
I push him away. "I'm fine, Mark. Stop it."
He shakes his head and starts to walk out of the room. I grab his arm.
"Wait, I'm sorry. Please?"
He sighs heavily but lets me stop him. "Don't do this Roger. Don't push me away."
"I'm not. I won't." I tell him. I take his hands and pull him to me. "I won't do that to you anymore."
He kisses me quickly and gives me the same worried look one last time before he lets me pull him out the door and downstairs.
"Holy fuck, real food!" Mark exclaims grabbing hard onto my arm when he sees a table full of early morning's finest, eggs, pancakes and a plate of bacon and sausage. I laugh at his reaction, but know I'm staring with the same hunger.
"Oh good, you're up. I was just going to knock on your door." My mother says, smiling. "You two hungry?"
I hug her quickly and kiss her on the cheek and Mark and I sit down to eat. She laughs gently watching us.
"Do you boys eat ok out there?"
"Not like this." I tell her.
"You're both too skinny." She announces. "I don't know what you're eating, but you're not eating enough."
I roll my eyes at her. "We're fine, mom. We just don't know how to cook."
Mark looks offended. "I can use a toaster."
"And I can use a fork. You can't cook Mark, get over it."
He pouts at me. "You've never complained about my cooking before."
"That's cause you don't cook. Quaker Oats does."
My mom laughs at us and ruffles Mark's hair affectionately. "Poor dear."
I lean over to kiss him but he pushes me away gently.
"Brush your teeth first."
"You've already kissed me today!"
"I wasn't fully awake yet. My judgment was impaired."
I grin at my mom who smiles sadly watching us. She looks older, significantly more somber. She still doesn't have many lines on her face, but even against her blonde hair I can see gray starting to form throughout it. Her eyes are tired, the lines at their corners the most prominent ones on her face, and the little bags developing beneath them make her seem older than she is. But she's still beautiful when she smiles.
When we finish eating and start to go back upstairs I grab Mark and pull him against me in a tight embrace.
"Aha! Morning breath!" I proclaim to him.
Before he can protest I press my lips to his. He kisses me back, but soon enough pushes me away.
"You're disgusting."
I grin at him and hurry up the rest of the stairs.
"I don't know why I put up with you." He says, shoving me at the top of the stairs. When he starts to walk away I grab his waist and pull him back to me. I kiss his neck, and that lovely corner of skin where neck meets shoulder. He sighs.
"I love you." I tell him, my lips on his ear. I nip his lobe gently. "You're perfect and I love you."
He lets out a low moan and lays his hands over mine. I start to tell him something else but pull away instead, coughing violently. It's a horrible, gagging sort of feeling that pulls me to the ground where I sit trying to control my breathing and body movement throughout. Mark kneels behind me and I feel his hands on my shoulders. He rubs my back gently, telling me that I'm all right. Finally the fit ceases and Mark pulls me against him and I fall back, exhausted and sore.
"Are you alright?" He asks me softly.
I nod wearily. I hear my mom coming up the stairs looking mortified.
"Baby? What's wrong? Is he ok?" She asks, kneeling at my side.
Mark kisses my head gently. "I think he's ok."
"Honey, what's on your lip? Is that blood?" She reaches up to wipe at it but I push her hand away and do it myself. Sure enough, my lower lip is tinged with a thin layer of blood and I wipe at the trickle that begins on the side of my mouth. I can feel Mark's grip tightening.
"You said you were fine, Roger." My mom says quietly, looking hurt. She strokes my hair. "Are you really?"
Mark says nothing.
I sigh. "Maybe not." I admit, closing my eyes.
+++
Before I open my eyes I know I'm in a hospital bed. I groan but it's stifled by the oxygen mask on my face. I'm alone in this room, and I must admit I'm rather scared. I have no idea what has happened or why I'm here. I look down at the tubes in my arms and shiver. More tracks to add to the collection. I hate this. I hate hospitals. I hate not knowing what they're doing to me and I hate not having Mark here. When the door opens a while later I see my mother. She smiles pathetically, and I know it's forced, she looks as though she's about to cry. I wonder what they've told her.
"Hey." I say, forgetting the mask.
She comes over next to the bed and takes it off for me. She leans over and kisses my forehead.
"How are you?"
"I feel like shit." I tell her weakly. "Where's Mark?"
She bites her lip. "They won't let him in yet, baby."
"Why the hell not?"
"Don't get upset, you need to rest. We'll keep trying." In an effort to boost my morale perhaps, she changes the subject. "The doctor is going to come see you soon."
"Great. Tell him I want to see Mark."
"Roger. . ."
"Or I'll just start pulling tubes out and then they'll have a lawsuit and you and Mark can be rich."
"Behave." She tells me sternly, but she still gives me a sad, but wry smile. "I'll come back later, I'm only supposed to stay for a few minutes or they might not let me come back in. Don't do anything stupid, ok?"
She kisses me again, places the oxygen mask back over my face and reluctantly leaves. A nurse comes in and changes a bag of fluid going into my arm. I watch her do it, wondering what the hell it is, and when she leaves I close my eyes.
+++
I wake up when I hear voices in the room. Slowly I open my eyes to see my mom talking with a doctor in low voices. Whoever's holding my hand tightens his grip. I look to my right and of course it's Mark, sitting beside the bed looking pained and relieved at the same time.
"You scared me." He says softly, smiling at me. He touches my face gently. "Don't do that again."
I gesture best as I can to the mask and he takes it off for me.
"What happened?" I ask him.
"You passed out, wouldn't wake up. Scared the hell out of us."
"Good, you're awake." The doctor says, coming over to the bed. My mother looks heartbroken and I feel my stomach clench tightly.
"What is it?" Not AIDS, not yet. It's too soon. By all means of logic I get a few more years. I look at Mark, oh God, not yet.
"It's not what I'm sure you're thinking, yet." The doctor says. "But your T-Cells are at a dangerous low. I'm going to increase your dosage of AZT." He shrugs. "Be sure to take it, there's really nothing else to do." He talks to my mother for a few more minutes then leaves. Mark strokes my hair.
"And you tried to tell me taking those was pointless." He tries to joke. His face falls quickly though. Even though it's not what I was dreading, low T-Cells are never good. Mark's worried, I can tell. More than worried, he's scared like me. This is really the first time he's seen me sick because of HIV. And I'm scared because crap like this, this is where it starts. A couple close calls, then full blown AIDS. And all it is after that is maybe a year's worth of hospital visits, doctors, denial, hope, acceptance. . . but always fear. Always a horrible sinking dread that the day will come when you look around at the hospital and think 'I want to go home' and then that's it. That's the acceptance. But even with that, I can't believe there's no fear. You're dying. I'm dying. This is it. I'm dying. I have to understand that, believe it, and prepare him for it because Mark looks like he's about to cry and I don't want him to break down every time I need to go to a hospital once he realizes what this is all about. The beginning of the end.
I look down at his hand in mine and smile at him.
"It'll be ok, Marky." I tell him. "You too, mom. Stop it. I'm fine. I'll be fine."
How much longer am I going to keep fooling them and myself with that stupid lie?
+++
Notes Continued: See, not dead. I love him too much. He'll be out of the hospital next chappie and we'll have some fun then. ;)