I just wanted to thank the reviewers! I know Rog is pretty off character (other than being a drama queen), but it's how I see him, so he is my version of Roger... Crazier and a bit softer in ways. shrugs You won't hear me apologize for it. winks
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I feel like I'm always sleeping through big things. The whole fam-damn-ily that's left is at the loft by the time I wake back up. I can't even greet them because I've not showered since the hotel that night with Mark. Thank god for bathrooms. I piss and then stand in the shower, washing, until the water turns cold.
I know they were talking about me as soon as I walk into the front room. All talking stops when I appear. God, that's annoying. "What?" I say, and Maureen comes over to me and gives me a hug. "Roger, they found the guy," she says, and I'm confused. I feel like I'm missing a huge puzzle piece. "The... guy?" I say and Mark leads me to the couch. "The guy who came with her here. They found him. He did it, Rog. He confessed. She owed him money." I nod. I don't know what to say, really.
They keep talking, but my mind is blank. She owed him money. She's dead over money. Money that any one of us would have found a way to get her. Stupid fucking... "Idiot," I mutter, and Mark turns to me, confused. "Her. Mimi. She was an IDIOT!" I yell, suddenly. I'm pissed. I didn't want her in my life anymore, but I didn't want her fucking DEAD. For fuck's sake, she was 22. Idiot, idiot, idiot. If she wasn't dead already, I would beat her to death.
I'm sure I've scandalized everyone else in the ever-shrinking family. We've got few rules in our clan, but not speaking ill of the newly dead is one of them. Ah well, truth hurts, sometimes.
Very soon after my little blowup, Mark sends everyone home. I'm sure I'm about to get bitched at for my outburst, but instead he curls up next to me. "How do you feel today," he asks me, and before I can help myself, I start to cry. "I feel like shit. I've never watched anyone... you know... die before. I don't want this regret."
"Forget regret, or life is yours to miss," he sings quietly. "Oh god, not Life Support credos," I smile cynically. "Hey, I happen to believe in some of it, you know," he says and holds me close. I wonder if he ever gets tired of being the one to hold me up.
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The funeral is beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that I almost forget it's for Mimi and spend half the time remembering Angel. I'm not really sure I'm over that whole brain breakdown yet, in fact. Time seems to be crossing over itself. One second it seems like the funeral has just ended. The next it seems like there is an hour left. Then it seems like three years ago when I was preparing to go to Santa Fe... Then like right now, right this second, reality.
We actually go to the Life Cafe for dinner. Benny laughs about bringing Muffy's dad there after Maureen's show three years ago. About how he explained away La Vie Boheme as "those crazy Chelsea boys" and "insane ex-roomates". Even I have to laugh at that. We start talking about Mimi after we order dinner and by desert, we are talking about Angel. Mimi and Angel, Angel and Mimi... two of us gone already, and two more with death sentences to live out. Collins smiles at me across the table. I'm sure he understands where my mind has wandered.
We drink, a lot. In fact, we close down the Life Cafe. It's three AM when we stumble out, and Collins drives everyone home. While the rest of us were drinking the last three bottles of wine, he was drinking strong coffee and water. Good man. Mark and I walk... Well, okay, we stumble home.
We don't even get inside the door before we start kissing. We kiss every few steps up to the loft. It takes us forever to get there, but neither of us wants to stop kissing. I think I may be drunker on him than on the wine. He could easily fatally wound me just by denying me of himself.
The loft is warm. Warm. So very warm. Benny finally fixed the heat in the building. I've decided I love him along with the rest of the world for the moment. Wine does that. So does kissing Mark. I pull away from Mark. "I wonder which group we fall into," I say, and he looks confused. "Chelsea boys or ex-roomates," I laugh, and pretty soon we are both giggling like children. "Roger, Roger, Roger," he laughs and pulls me down on the couch.
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I don't know how we make it to the bedroom, but we do. The world is full of hands and faces and cocks and kisses. Mark kisses down my chest. He trails hot kisses over my stomach and down further still. He kisses down my legs, skipping over my penis and I groan.
He kisses down to my ankle and works his way back up the other side. It tickles when he nibbles at my knee and I laugh. He smiles his little half smile at me and rests his head against my thigh. So often I see traces of pain in him. I have no idea what is going on in his head. I wish that I did.
Mark suddenly smiles fully and moves up to kiss my lips. We lay there, for hours it seems, kissing. I've lost all track of time before he moves back down my body. His lips are deliciously warm against my flesh. The heat of his mouth slides over the head of my penis and down. There is something almost fragile about him as he fucks me with his mouth. His tongue catches under the head of my cock and my eyes actually roll back in my head for a second.
He teases me with his lips and tongue and then his hands. His fingers are long and thin, piano player's hands. He licks my ass while his hands keep moving on my cock and my moans take on a new heat. My body is tensing up and he moves faster. I'm almost ready to cum when he wraps his fingers tightly around the base of my penis. "Not yet," he whispers as I try not to whimper. The bastard actually laughs then. "Poor baby," he says and I groan.
He really laughs then. If I didn't know him better, I would say he's enjoying this whole torture thing.